


Far from the Tree

by Jeannie Peneaux (JeanniePeneaux)



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2020-06-27 00:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 118,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19779904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanniePeneaux/pseuds/Jeannie%20Peneaux
Summary: Elizabeth had lived, quite contentedly, as the second daughter of a country gentleman and had little desire to quit the sphere in which she had been brought up. It was quite possible, however, that the surprising turn of events after dining at Rosings Park would cause considerable upheaval to the life that she had always known.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I stumbled across this half-forgotten story on my computer whilst having a poke around and couldn't resist sharing it. It is plotted out and 12 chapters written-- I suspect that it could go so far as 20 chapters. Experience tells me that I am not so amazing at predicting that though. I intend to post weekly.
> 
> I am rubbish at gauging angst but suggest that it is not so low angst as my other writings. I only do happy endings though, right? This story is of the 'Elizabeth is not a Bennet' ilk-- so if that is not your cup of tea, feel free to avoid!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it if you do delve in!

It had long been her habit, upon first being introduced, to look searchingly into the face of any young woman she met. Particularly those who appeared to be around four years younger than Anne. It was not something that Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park did consciously, rather, it was was a compulsion born of the grief of a bereft mother. A majority of these young women did not merit a second look, either their parents were with them and their lineage was very clear in their shared features or she recollected herself and with iron will would put an end her self-torture before it could go any further--yet she could not wean herself off the tendency altogether.  
  
Naturally then, one March morning, Lady Catherine found herself carefully studying one Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. She was, as she observed to the vicar's wife, a pretty sort of girl being blessed with dark hair and equally dark, expressive eyes. The colouring was the right colouring, concluded her ladyship, as she introduced Miss de Bourgh to her, although she could not quite fool herself that it was a particularly uncommon shade of brown.   
  
Miss Bennet appeared to have a certain pride about her that was not pleased by Lady Catherine’s inquisitive conversation. Her annoyance was made evident by the slight lifting of her chin and the faintest trace of impertinence that coloured her smooth, polite answers. The girl, for she was not more than twenty, spoke well-- her pitch was low for a woman but pleasant to listen to. Lady Catherine approved of this, there were far too many shrill-voiced young misses being launched into the society of recent. Take young Diana Templeton, a beauty rarely to be surpassed but with such a dreadfully high, childish manner of speech that any delight brought about by her face was instantly dispelled as soon as the chit opened her mouth.   
  
Lady Catherine continued to examine Miss Bennet after dinner, Miss de Bourgh had courteously invited their guest to sit beside her near the fire. Was there a resemblance between them, she wondered? Perhaps. She so often feared that one day her longing would deceive her own eyes and lead her into fancying that there was a similarity when there was none to be found.   
  
Her breath hitched for a moment as the two young women raised their heads in unison to look up at something Mrs. Jenkinson was saying. Yes. Surely, _surely_ there was something in Miss Elizabeth Bennet's expression just then that absolutely mirrored Anne’s. Somehow, even with her celebrated self-control, she could not prevent her next words from tumbling forth.   
  
“Pray, Miss Bennet, what is your age?”   
  
“With three younger sister’s grown up, your ladyship can hardly expect me to own to it.” Impatience warred with amusement and the Mistress of Rosings answered tersely.   
  
“Miss Bennet, you cannot be more than twenty so there is little need to conceal your age!”

“I am not yet one and twenty, Lady Catherine,” replied the girl, with a glint in those dark eyes and the faintest twitch of a brow that Catherine was certain she had seen in Sir Lewis many years ago. 

Surely she would go mad one day, with such imaginings.

“And when do you celebrate your majority, Miss Bennet?” 

“This coming August, Madam, on the twenty-first of the month.” There was something clipped in that smooth voice now, clearly, such directness of speech did not sit well with the young woman from Hertfordshire. 

Evidently, Mrs. Collins recognised it too, for she sent a warning glance to her young friend and said, “I had always thought it to be on the fifteenth, Eliza! Do you mean to tell me that after all these years of friendship that I have it wrong?”

Elizabeth Bennet looked uncomfortable then, for some unknown reason, and made some lighthearted remark about birthdays not being so very important to a grown woman after all. Lady Catherine conceded the issue and listened with half an ear to Mr. Collins' lengthy discourse on the subject of young women given far too much freedom of movement too soon.   
  
“...I do hold, Lady Catherine, that a female cannot possibly know her own mind until she is at least _five_ and twenty, I cannot see that it is necessary to legally free so young a person from the authority of her father so soon.”   
  
Lady Catherine thought of her own marriage to Sir Lewis de Bourgh at seventeen and informed her idiot of a parson that she rather thought it ought to be sooner, at least if there were a young woman of enough character to know her own mind in the case. She paused then, thinking that by such reckoning Anne might expect more freedom of choice than she currently enjoyed and glanced over toward her.   
  
Miss de Bourgh was not attending, she was listening carefully to Miss Bennet's lively account of some happening or another. Her brow was a little furrowed but although clearly deep in thought, she did not appear displeased. Lady Catherine looked away, attempting to rein herself in from staring at the pair of them for too long. What _might_ have been was futile to dwell on. Mr. Collins’ ridiculous opinions required correction and _she_ was the lady to see to it.   
  
Having successfully cowed the man into profuse apologies for having dared to think without her leave, Lady Catherine saw fit to change the subject.   
  
“Mrs. Collins,” she began, “have I yet told you that my nephews are to make their annual Easter visit to Rosings in but three days time?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a bit more written of this today, so I figured there could be no harm in posting again soon. Thanks for reading and for your fun comments last chapter. :)

Miss de Bourgh raised the subject of Miss Bennet’s birth date the next morning at breakfast. She was not of a disposition to speak if she did not deem it necessary. It was not precisely timidity, in her Mama’s opinion, rather it showed excellence in her discernment by declining to waste words.   
  
“Mama,” she began, permitting Mrs. Jenkinson to place a hot buttered muffin on her plate with cunningly wrought silver tongs, “Miss Bennet celebrates her birth on a different day of August each year. She is a foundling, you know-- the Bennet family adopted her. Apparently, Mr. Bennet is of a whimsical disposition and decided that since no one knew the actual date that she was born, that they should celebrate each year on a different one until she turns one-and-thirty and then she may choose whichever pleases her best. Is that not a strange thing?”   
  
Lady Catherine thought back to the last evening and the dark colouring of Miss Bennet. She reflected too on the moment at which both the young women seated on the low chaise looked up and had borne, for a single moment, a striking resemblance to each other. She crisply replaced the delicate china cup back onto its matched saucer. That set had been bought when she entered Rosings as a new bride, the old ones had been far too plain in her opinion.   
  
“I am quite certain, Mrs. Jenkinson, that you have eaten sufficiently for this morning. You may leave us. Palmer, Hoburn--you may go.”   
  
Anne was far too well-bred to display any overt curiosity over the reason her Mama may have dismissed the servants. Indeed, one might almost think, judging by the grave expression in her eyes, that she might have expected it.   
  
“A _foundling_ ?” repeated her mother, once they were alone at the table, “Is that all you know of her?”   
  
“She was brought from London as a baby. She did not say why-- only that she has been with the Bennets for as long as she can remember and is treated as one of their own. She is the right age, Mama and--” Miss de Bourgh, ignoring Lady Catherine’s previous strictures on young ladies who did not complete a sentence, trailed off and frowned. 

The two of them sat in silence. Anne did not dare to speak again, it pained her to raise the hopes of her mother but she could not leave her fanciful imaginings entirely unvoiced. Lady Catherine fixed her eyes on the bright glint of a silver spoon that caught her attention on the white table cloth but she did not note it. The wheels of her mind were turning. Anne waited.

“I shall write to Mr. Bennet,” declared her mother, decisively, “and seek further information. Darcy comes to us very soon, he will be of use in an investigation.” Lady Catherine paused a moment, before continuing, “we shall remain circumspect, Anne, until we know more. Miss Bennet may well be nobody of any significance to us.”  
  
“Yes Mama,” said Anne, quietly.

Lady Catherine for all her warnings to her daughter about not raising her hopes too high, wrote to Mr. Bennet that very morning. Two days later, for she had told the servant given the task of delivering her note that he must wait, she received a reply.   


_Yr. Ladyship,_

_I will confess myself to have been greatly surprised by your letter, if only because my daughter is ordinarily very discreet regarding her uncertain origins. I wish I could provide you with more information than I have, not least for Elizabeth’s sake._

_Some twenty years ago on the First day of August, my wife was brought to bed in childbirth and suffered dreadfully. The babe had not turned and the result of two days suffering was a stillborn boy and much disturbance of mind on the part of Mrs. Bennet._

_I buried the child in the churchyard with a heavy heart but had hopes that as we were both yet young, further children may come. Mrs. Bennet, however, was of such low spirits that she could not be persuaded to eat, not even for the sake of our eldest daughter and it became apparent that there was a considerable risk to her life. It was the midwife who suggested that what ailed her was the need to nurture a newborn. Essentially, madam, I wrote to my brother-in-law, Edward Gardiner, and requested that he visit his sister, either to bid her farewell or to present her with as young a babe as he could manage to find from one of the many charitable institutions in London. I could not, you must understand, send for a manchild--the entailments on my estate being what they were, but requested, and was brought, a little girl with a smattering of dark hair who had been delivered to the Asylum of St. Bartholomew which is not far from the Gardiners residence in Cheapside._   
_  
_Once given Elizabeth, who came only with a white lace-edged cloth and still swaddled, Mrs. Bennet’s spirits recovered dramatically and within a fortnight was up from the bed which we had feared she would not rise from. To all intents and purposes, Lady Catherine, Elizabeth is as much of a Bennet as the four others who bear that name. It matters not to us if this is the only name she ever bears but to her, I suspect some clue to the nature of her birth family may allay some of the natural curiosity she has of them. It is for this reason that I have shared with you in such forthright terms, the circumstances surrounding her adoption. 

_May your search be fruitful,_

_  
_ _Thomas Bennet._

Lady Catherine read the note three times in succession before heaving a shaking breath. Something that felt like hope had been lit within her heart and was even now growing stronger and warmer the more she thought on it.

She had, in the privacy of the empty library, muffled with her hand the cry that escaped when she read of a lace-edged cloth. Anne had one very similar to the receiving blanket that had been made so long ago for her second born daughter. If Elizabeth Bennet still had hers-- perhaps they might be compared and mayhap she would finally have the one thing she had yearned for over the course of twenty long years.

Tomorrow. Darcy would come tomorrow, he had promised in his letter that he should be there promptly and he was always so punctual. She had learnt, as she had grown older, that one could not make rational decisions whilst being in the tight grip of high emotion. When her dependable and good-hearted nephew arrived, she would tell him what had been discovered, and what she hoped for. He would advise her well, for knew much of the story, even if it was two decades old. Lady Anne had brought him to Rosings with her-- a ten-year-old lad-- when she had discovered the worst of it. Darcy did not know it _all,_ of course, no one did. There were, after all, _some_ dreadful deeds and secrets that she would bear in silence until the day her life ended. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to meeee etc. 
> 
> My birthday gift to myself is to post another chapter and greedily indulge in any comments that come in. :) I enjoy reading your thoughts and suppositions so much. :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading!

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, arrived at his Aunt’s estate the following day and was concerned to find her Ladyship in great agitation of spirits. No sooner had he set foot through the door and bowed his respects than he was bidden come to the library. His curiosity was piqued, ordinarily, Aunt Catherine would pepper him with questions regarding enquiries into the goings-on at Pemberley and the wellbeing of Georgiana. Aunt Catherine was so very fond her of her niece, if only because Miss Darcy was the very image of her late sister. 

There was something restless about his Aunt today, he decided. She was not prone to pacing, or wringing her hands together in general-- she detested fidgeters and kept her limbs and her fingers well under control. Aunt Catherine, with her piercing eyes and striking features, was a handsome woman, even at the age she was. She had, his Mama had told him, been considered a great beauty in her youth. Mama had laughed at him when he had looked at her in confusion and been unsure what to say. It seemed impossible to him, at eight, to know how to answer honestly but politely. Mama could read him like a book, of course. 

“Fitzwilliam,” she would say, “it is so very easy to see what you are thinking!” He had learnt, as he had grown older to cover that unfortunate trait, even if it meant he kept most of his thoughts to himself. Aunt Catherine would have been quite offended to realise that her young nephew did not very easily see the classical beauty in her, nor that he did not quite admire her profile-- for all that it was similar to his Mama’s. His Aunt turned on the spot near the window and took out of her pocket a single sheet of paper. It was a letter-- perhaps it was responsible for her uncharacteristic behaviour.  
  
“Darcy. I believe I have found the lost child. She is visiting the new Mrs. Collins and remains for a month. I have written to the man whom she calls father and have had a letter in return that has convinced me that my suppositions are correct.”  
  
Mr. Darcy, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead took the letter that his Aunt was holding out to him and read it. When he saw the name ‘Elizabeth’ and ‘Bennet’ he started with great surprise and frowned. By the time he had perused the letter and handed it back to her Ladyship, his frown had deepened and his mouth was set in severe lines. The tragic loss of his youngest cousin was not often spoken of, however much it had cast a heavy pall on the whole of Rosings for many long years. His late father had conducted investigations, quietly, and without his wife’s knowledge, into the possible whereabouts of the little girl but they had all come to nothing and George Darcy had come to the conclusion that any further search would be fruitless.  
  
“I am astonished Aunt,” he said slowly, weighing up his words, “and--I am greatly fearful that you might have been taken in.” 

Lady Catherine was inclined to be offended, her nephew ought to know that she was too well educated a person to be seen for a fool. “ _Taken in_ , Darcy? I cannot see why you should think so. Explain yourself.”

“It is merely that I became acquainted with the Bennet family this last winter when my friend Bingley leased a house not five miles from Longbourn--Netherfield is in Hertfordshire, you know. I have had to extract two people from their wiles and I should hate for you to be the third. I believe Mrs. Bennet at least to be a desperate sort of female, quite intent upon improving their limited standing in society. I cannot, in all fairness, testify to the character of Mr. Bennet, I saw little of him.”

“I see,” said Lady Catherine, disappointed. “But what of _Miss Elizabeth_ ? Did you see anything in _her_ to warrant such strictures? No, nephew, I cannot allow this to rest. Perhaps you are unaware that your _own mother_ made _two_ lace edged receiving blankets for my daughters and Anne at least still has hers-- you saw for yourself that Mr. Bennet made mention of one that sounded remarkably similar-- _he_ could not possibly have known of your mother’s gift to her nieces. Her dark hair and her _eyes_ , Darcy--you cannot deny that they are identical in colour to that of most of the Fitzwilliam family.”

Mr. Darcy thought of the strange pull of those eyes and tried to be reasonable, “I cannot deny it, but such a shade of brown may be found in a hundred families--not only ours. The receiving blanket--well, I cannot explain that, perhaps it is not at all the same as Cousin Anne’s. I trust that you have not raised _her_ hopes with this?”  
  
“It is she who told me of Miss Bennet’s background, some nonsense about Miss Elizabeth having a different date on which to celebrate of her birth every year. I, of course, wrote to Mr. Bennet seeking further information. I have told Anne that nothing must be said until we know more. Those from the parsonage have not been invited to dine with us since the first-- I thought it best that it should be so.”  
  
Mr. Darcy walked to the window and stared out at the park, he had not at all been prepared for such a greeting from his aunt and even less prepared to hear that Elizabeth Bennet, the young woman he had fled from in November, was a party concerned. He feared for his resolve, wavering between thinking the worst of her motives and thinking it an unhappy coincidence that they should be thrown together again so soon, and in _such_ a way.  
  
“She was brought from a London Orphanage, Darcy--at the _same_ time as _my_ child must have been taken to one.” The catch in her speech and the hope that she could not quite hide was hard for him to hear, it grieved him.  
  
“London is a very large place.” Was all her nephew would say in response, trying to keep the pity from his voice.  
  
Lady Catherine was impatient now. “Do not suppose that I am unaware of that, Darcy! I can see, _full_ well, that each individual thing that I have mentioned _may_ be dismissed as sheer coincidence but _together_ ...surely you see that this warrants further investigation. You might, for example, find out for me the name of the place that your cousin was delivered to when she was taken from me--it would not be so very hard a thing, would it?”  
  
Here her sister’s son turned and looked at her with evident sympathy. “You know that I am at your service, Aunt Catherine. I will write to my man in London-- today if it pleases you. I am only concerned lest your very natural desire to find your lost daughter may either cloud your excellent judgement and lead you to further heartache than you have already endured.” 

It would hardly be an arduous task to undertake, perhaps there might be some relevant information in the report given to his father that would clearly extricate them from Elizabeth Bennet. He had not known that she was a foundling, bad enough for her to be a Bennet-- he had been fortunate in his escape, however fascinating he thought her.

Lady Catherine lifted her chin, “I should rather endure it, nephew, than to face wondering if _my own_ _daughter_ had been within my arms reach this one time and that through my own cowardice I had missed the opportunity.”  
  
Mr. Darcy nodded, unable to answer this, whatever her faults, Lady Catherine de Bourgh was no coward.  
  
“I wish to interview the girl, Fitzwilliam,” she said, with something of her usual command, “If she can either show or describe that blanket then we can know at least if it is not she. What harm can there be in that?”  
  
“You will permit me to be present, Aunt? I should like to protect you, if I am able to do so, from the young lady manipulating your motherly emotions to her own ends.”  
  
“Darcy! Do you think that she would make such an attempt?”  
  
“I do not know,” said, Mr. Darcy, soberly, “but at least if I am with you I should be able to see the matter more clearly.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. At least after this chapter, you are no longer alone in having unanswered questions. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, Happy Friday! Thanks for reading! :)

Elizabeth Bennet was confused. She had awoken that morning and slipped out of the parsonage before breakfast to take a very long walk about the park that ran for many miles about Rosings. As she rambled about and explored, she encountered Mr. Darcy who was clearly riding out for his morning exercise. She dropped a small curtsey and was amused to see the gentleman attempt to make a half nod-half bow in return after some deliberation.    
  
Perhaps he was unwilling to cut her too obviously on his Aunts property, it would doubtless have made any invitations to Rosings excessively awkward should he refuse to acknowledge the prior acquaintance. Elizabeth had no difficulty in attributing his hesitancy to an abundance of pride, it seemed to run strongly in the family if his Aunt was anything to be judged by. Miss de Bourgh, she admitted, had not been too proud to at least made some small effort in engaging her in conversation those few evenings ago-- although that might well have been curiosity more than anything. It was a pity that Mr. Darcy was Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s nephew and that his visit happened to coincide with hers to Hunsford Parsonage. Lady Catherine might be an interesting character study on her own but Lizzy suspected that both she and her nephew together might make for an overabundance of conceit in one county. She herself could only regret Mr. Darcy’s sudden departure from Hertfordshire because he had taken Mr. Bingley away with him and the dearest creature in all the world was even now lamenting him in London.    
  
Still, her dislike of Mr. Darcy and his overbearing Aunt did not mean that she could not admire the great beauty of the Kent countryside. The park at Rosings was so beautiful that she could almost bring herself to forgive the de Bourgh family their pride. Had she been born to such privilege, perhaps she might herself have become as odiously aware of her own greatness as they were. Elizabeth watched a grey feathered dove that had landed gracefully on the branch of a nearby tree, before leisurely making her way back to the parsonage.

She found Mr. and Mrs. Collins already sat at breakfast.    
  
“Oh Charlotte, I am sorry, I had not realised that the hour was so advanced, I shall step upstairs to take off my bonnet and join you immediately.”    
  
“There is no need for any apology, Eliza,” responded Mrs. Collins calmly, refilling her husband's teacup, “I know your habits well enough. Maria has not yet emerged from her room either-- so you are hardly the only one to be absent from the table.” 

Lizzy laughed, “Shall I do as I have often done to my sisters and pull the covers off her?”    
  
Mr. Collins looked as shocked as one could look with a mouth full of food but relaxed a little when Charlotte smiled and returned, “I had heard from Kitty that you are unbearably early to rise, so I suppose I have now discovered why she thinks so. Do go and take off your bonnet, my dear, and have some breakfast.”    
  
Pertly, her friend made a stately curtsey and did so. When she re-entered the breakfast room, she bore Maria with her. 

“I promise you, Mrs. Collins, that I did not so much as knock loudly upon the door as I went by. Mariah was beckoned from her room by the delicious scents that wafted up the stairs.” She sat down, with the younger girl beside her, “I commend you, my dear friend, such a welcoming smell. I cannot think that even Rosings Park will be served such a delightful fare as this today. I am excessively hungry, you know.”   
  
The maid, entering with a note, prevented Mr. Collins from defending Lady Catherine’s kitchens and Charlotte, after glancing at it read it quickly.    
  
“It is from Lady Catherine, Mr. Collins. She wishes for you to escort Elizabeth to Rosings at eleven o’clock. Apparently, she has great curiosity to know more of her.”    
  
It was precisely the sort of high handed ordering about that Elizabeth would have expected from her ladyship, given how freely she had directed Mrs. Collins in her own household affairs before they dined there. “I do not know that I will go,” teased Lizzy “I cannot imagine why her ladyship should want to know any more of me than has already been revealed.”   
  
This proved too much for Mr. Collins and he choked on his tea. Elizabeth watched Charlotte in pity to see if she seemed embarrassed at having such a ridiculous man for a husband. Her old friend, however, was not the sort of a woman to give herself away in her feelings. If Lady Catherine’s summons surprised her, it was only a little evident in her inflexion and if she had to present her husband with a fresh napkin because he was now stained with brown liquid-- only the faintest blush was discernible. Once Mr. Collins had recovered himself, he endeavoured to point out to Cousin Elizabeth the error in her thinking. It was not for one such as she to  _ decline _ an invitation to Rosings Park--Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn did not need to think through the whys and wherefores of Lady Catherine’s summons, she had merely to  _ obey _ .    
  
Charlotte, seeing the amused gleam in her friend's eye turn to mockery during this ridiculous speech, intervened.    
  
“Oh, I am certain Elizabeth was merely jesting, my dear. Do finish your breakfasts, for it is approaching a quarter past nine and I am sure that by the time you have made yourselves ready it will be time to leave. I am glad that you will be entertained this morning Lizzy, for I want Maria to assist me in preparing a basket or two that must be taken into Hunsford.”   
  
Elizabeth laughed at her friend and, with a pitying glance to Mariah said, “ah what it is to hold the privilege of being a guest rather than a mere sister! I am doubly fortunate this morning for not only am I to once again encounter the splendours of Rosings but whilst doing so I shall escape onerous duty. ‘Tis fortuitous, is it not?”   
  
Thus at a quarter to eleven, Elizabeth stepped out with her cousin to walk to Rosings. She did not trouble herself to state that she could quite easily take herself across the lane and up the sweeping driveway, she knew enough of her cousin to know that if Lady Catherine had specified that he was to bring her, then it must be so. She endured as best she could, his assurances that her rose pink dress, plain spencer and ordinary straw bonnet were  _ entirely _ acceptable choices and that she must not at all feel that she should have chosen finer. Elizabeth, who had not given any thought to her dress, save that she liked it and it suited her, thanked her cousin with barely discernible sarcasm and suggested that she should return to the parsonage to change. It was enough to make him hurry his own step and forgo any further attempt to intimidate her.    
  
There was a mutual feeling between them of ill will. Mr. Collins, having faced the humiliation of rejection at Elizabeth’s hand, sought to bring her to some sense of her own great loss in having done so. His cousin, however, was quite unable to feel any sort of regret in having dismissed his suit. A few short months of marriage had not made him any less an object for contempt, in her view. Still, for Charlotte’s sake, she spoke to him with greater patience than she felt he deserved.    


Elizabeth was surprised to be shown into a smaller reception room than the one she had been in upon their first dining at Rosings. By comparison, this one was very nearly cosy. It seemed to be a room designed around family comfort rather than to impress and Lizzy, looking about her at the furnishings, decided that she rather liked it. The green walls were a little dark perhaps, and the gold embellishment on the heavy velvet window dressings was a little too gaudy but for all that, it pleased her better than the stately magnificence of the other rooms that she had seen in the house.    
  
Her Ladyship was sat before the fire in a wing back chair. She looked up as Elizabeth entered and for a moment their eyes met. There seemed to be a sort of repressed energy about the great lady this morning, her dark eyes were still as piercing as they had been before but perhaps today they were not so cold.    
  
Elizabeth curtseyed in silence, noting that Mr. Darcy was stood by one of the windows and had bowed to her, even as Lady Catherine had nodded.   
  
“You are to take yourself off, Mr. Collins. I wish to speak to Miss Bennet privately and have no need of you. I may have Mr. Darcy escort her back to you later on this afternoon. Do sit down, Miss Bennet.”   
  
Elizabeth, her eyebrows raised at such high handedness, sat as her Ladyship had indicated with a lofty wave of the hand in the other chair that had been placed beside the fire. Mr. Darcy moved to a seat, a little behind his aunts and fixed his gaze on her face. Ill-mannered staring seemed to be a family trait shared between the two of them, she thought, for Lady Catherine did not look away from her even as Mr. Collins slowly, talking all the while of Her Ladyship’s graciousness, removed himself from the room and shut the door. Elizabeth, refusing to be intimidated by them, lifted her chin and stared back.    
  
For some reason that she could not name, Mr. Collins’ departure from the room created an odd feeling in the air. She wondered why she had been summoned. Elizabeth did not care for the strange tension that enveloped them. 

“I am certain that you are quite at a loss, Miss Bennet, as to the reason I have requested this  tête-à-tête .”   
  
“I cannot account for it Madam,” responded Elizabeth, cooly. She  _ was _ very curious, however, and became more so when Lady Catherine de Bourgh reached to the little polished side table that had been drawn near her chair and took up a folded letter, the seal broken. 

“I have in my hand a letter from Mr. Bennet in which he details the circumstances surrounding your adoption into the Bennet family. You are, I trust, familiar with those details.”

Elizabeth was caught quite by astonishment. “Upon my word, Lady Catherine--I cannot fathom why Papa should have sent such to  _ you-- _ of all people!” She was aware, vaguely, of Mr. Darcy’s sudden shift in his own chair-- that he was now leaning forward a little as if to see her more clearly. She ignored him, so perturbed as she was by Lady Catherine’s question.   
  
“He sent them because I asked him to. Must I repeat my enquiry?” asked her ladyship, with some impatience, “Are you familiar with the timings and reason for your being taken in by the Bennet family?”   
  
Lizzy, a puzzled frown and a great feeling of disquiet evident on her face, nodded. “Yes--Mama was very ill and someone or other said that the cure was a baby...Papa sent to London via my Uncle and I have been a Bennet ever since.”   
  
“And there is, I believe, a particular cloth that you were wrapped in when you were taken in by,” she glanced at the letter in her hand, “St Bartholomews?”   
  
Agitated now, Elizabeth trembled within herself but her reply was strong, “To what end should your Ladyship need to know these things? Why was I not consulted before  _ my _ private affairs were broadcast to strangers with whom I am barely acquainted.”   
  
“I shall answer, as best I can, Miss Bennet, your questions but first I must be satisfied with your answers.” Lady Catherine’s tone was equally firm but not altogether unkind.    
  
Mr. Darcy spoke now for the first time, in his deep solemn voice. “If you would answer my Aunt’s inquiries, Miss Bennet, as well as you are able, it will assist us all in putting together the pieces of this puzzle.”   
  
Her hackles raised, Elizabeth tilted her head toward him and said rather sharply, “I cannot see  _ why _ I must answer such personal questions, Mr. Darcy. I am not, after all, a  _ puzzle _ \--I am a person.”   
  
Lady Catherine spoke again, the letter held tightly between long, elegant fingers. Fingers that were adorned with several rings worth a king's ransom. “Do not suppose, Miss Bennet, that you are the only one who has lived in the world without knowledge of the whereabouts of her kin. I myself know the burning curiosity that accompanies being away from your own blood. One does not cease to wonder what has become of them merely because the space of twenty years has elapsed. If you will assist  _ me _ , Miss Bennet, in my enquiries, I shall do what I can to find  _ you _ your own answers,  _ regardless _ of whether or not you are who I think you are.”   
  
Elizabeth clenched her fingers tightly together in her lap. What the older lady in the chair opposite her had said was entirely true, even Jane had never quite comprehended Elizabeth’s unfading desire to know who her birth family were. She nodded and, drawing a steadying breath answered her Ladyship. 

“Yes, there is a blanket-- a receiving blanket. It is all I have that is mine from birth. I have it at the parsonage--I carry it with me almost everywhere.”

“Darcy, ring the bell.” Lady Catherine rapped out the words, as though a delay of any sort could not be borne. Elizabeth frowned. 

Mr. Darcy had already risen to do so, even before his aunt finished saying his name. A footman quickly appeared at the door and Lady Catherine looked expectantly at her guest. “Will you send for it, Miss Bennet?  _ Please _ . It would expedite matters considerably if you would.”   
  
Bewildered and confused, Elizabeth spoke to the footman. “Would you ask Mrs. Collins-- she may still be at the parsonage-- to go into my bedchamber there and look beneath my pillow. There is a white, lace-edged blanket there that I should like brought to me here--please.” 

Tonelessly, the footman acknowledged the order and took himself off.    
  
Lady Catherine looked to the clock. “If Mrs. Collins makes haste, we shall have at least one answer within the half-hour, what say you, Darcy?”   
  
Mr. Darcy was looking at Elizabeth with a certain amount of pity. “It seems a useless exercise to speculate, Aunt, when we will have evidence one way or the other very soon. In the meantime, perhaps Miss Bennet might like some tea.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that I am a day late. Real-life has been nuts, only just now catching up with computer time. 
> 
> Here is chapter 5-- I hope you enjoy it. It answers a major question. 
> 
> Thank you, as ever, for reading. :)

“Miss Bennet,” said that same lady, “would very much like some tea, but would rather more  _ prefer _ some answers of her own. If I may have both I should be pleased.”   
  
Mr. Darcy smiled a little at that, it was more like the Elizabeth Bennet he had been used to in Hertfordshire. Her evident astonishment in the face of Lady Catherine having received information from Mr. Bennet had quite acquitted her, in his own mind, of any intention to falsely claim a relationship with the de Bourgh family. It relieved him, in a way, to think that he had been right about her in Hertfordshire and that she was not, in fact, a conniving young woman-- as he still suspected Mrs. Bennet to be. Still, it did not follow that she was necessarily his lost little cousin-- the sooner the servant returned with that blanket the better.

Darcy pulled the bell again and bade the footman bring the tea tray. 

“How came you, madam, to write to Mr. Bennet of such things?” Elizabeth asked pointedly. She would have her answers-- her origins were a mystery to her and as such she disliked being kept in the dark for long.    
  
Lady Catherine sighed, “I suppose you are entitled to the story. You of all people might understand it. Darcy, do sit down-- if you stalk about the room as you are you will quite throw me off my train of thought.”   
  
“I beg your pardon, Aunt.” said her nephew, politely but without much remorse. He sat back down, once again returning to his scrutiny of Elizabeth’s face. 

“Twenty years ago I gave birth to a girl child. I was very ill for the space of a week and was barely conscious for most of that. When I eventually woke from my slumber and asked for my child, I was told that the girl had died and I that should not think of her anymore.” A mirthless smile formed upon Lady Catherine’s thin lips, “I cannot think of worse advice to a bereft woman. What mother in nature is there that can forget a child she has borne...that is the trouble with _men_ , Miss Bennet, they have no comprehension that a mother is a mother to a babe long before that babe draws breath and even after it has ceased. I found out, some two years after that event, that I had been told a very great--very _grave_ _falsehood_. Sir Lewis de Bourgh, upon hearing that I had been delivered of a second daughter, rather than his hoped-for son, had given orders that the little girl be got rid of.”  
  
Elizabeth, fully seeing now the import of Lady Catherine’s earlier questions, had grown very white and gasped audibly at this revelation.  
  
The tea tray was brought in and Lady Catherine gestured to it, Elizabeth shook her head--she could not think of tea now. Mr. Darcy rose and, to Lizzy’s surprise, poured out two cups and handed one to his aunt.   
  
He offered her the second with a gentle, “You do not look well, madam, the warmth will revive you.”   
  
Lady Catherine waited for the servants to leave and sipped at the hot tea. She barely tasted it, lost as she was in painful memory.   
  
“The midwife, who was an honest, god-fearing sort of woman, took the baby and passed her on to the vicar at the time, a Mr. Oliver Brimwell. That gentleman, not knowing her origins, carried my daughter to London and deposited her there, wrapped in a blanket that was sewn by my sister, at an orphanage--the name of which I do not know. I found all this out much later on, over the course of a very _trying_ week, Miss Bennet. You may imagine my feelings. Sir Lewis himself, when quite intoxicated, told me of what he had done and I, wishing to know where my poor babe was buried, found out the rest when I questioned the women who had attended the birth.”   
  
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. Lady Catherine’s account was delivered matter of factly and without her finding any necessity to sob into her handkerchief yet somehow Elizabeth found herself greatly affected. “I _cannot_ imagine your feelings, Lady Catherine. I have never heard of, never even dreamed of such wickedness. I--I am not fool enough to pretend I do not know where this interview is leading but I do not, I cannot--I cannot see how...surely this is all _coincidence_ , Lady Catherine.”   
  
She said no more, seeming to understand that the suggestion and its rebuttal could not be voiced, not yet.   
  
A knock sounded at the door and Mr. Darcy called out admittance. Lady Catherine sat stiffly in her chair, her hand covering her eyes. The footman bore in a calico bag, tied with a yellow ribbon and presented it to Miss Bennet before withdrawing. 

Elizabeth pulled at the bow that tied the bag and without delay, carefully took out the folded blanket. It was the most precious thing that she possessed and she had kept it beautifully preserved for her whole life. In some respects, it represented the entirety of a faceless family that she had never met. As a girl she had realised that someone somewhere must have loved her to fashion such a thing and when greatly distressed as a child, she would stroke the soft wool lightly.

She stroked it now, just for a moment, before handing it over to the woman who might be her mother. 

Lady Catherine’s hands met hers, both of them trembling as much as the other before the older woman spread out, with great care, the white cloth.    
  
Looking down at it, Lady Catherine, looked closely.    
  
“Darcy,” she said hoarsely, “fetch Anne, please. She is waiting and will be ready.” Darcy went.   
  
Catherine de Bourgh tore her damp, bright, eyes away from her sister’s handiwork and held out a hand to Elizabeth.    
  
“I believe that this is the very same blanket that my sister made and sent to Rosings for the impending birth of my daughter.” 

Lizzy shook her head, her dark eyes were wide and incredulous.

“Your Ladyship, this is all so unbelievable. There is no  _ solid _ proof, only supposition and coincidence. I--forgive me, I cannot credit it. The blanket  _ may _ be one and the same if indeed it is, but what if I am  _ not _ the same baby who was once wrapped therein? Anything might have happened--”

Lady Catherine’s hand dropped. “I suspected that you were my daughter...yes, I will say it, Miss Bennet--  _ I _ am no coward, I have already faced the very worst of my fears twenty years ago, what can frighten me now? I suspected that you were my lost child before I even had Mr. Bennet’s letter mentioning the blanket. There was something in your colouring, in your occasional mannerism that was familiar to me.”   
  
Miss de Bourgh entered the room quietly, Mr. Darcy carried for her a folded up white cloth and he strode forward, as the ladies watched and laid it out beside Elizabeth’s. They were not identical but were similar enough for their maker to be clearly one and the same person. The late Lady Anne had, with great skill and patience sewn matched lace to the edge of the blankets.   
  
Mr. Darcy nodded, satisfied.    
  
“They are clearly a match. This is certainly the same cloth that Mama sent for the birth of my cousin.” He glanced at Elizabeth, “It is not so incontrovertible a piece of proof as I would like but given every other circumstance it is enough, I should think.”   
  
Anne de Bourgh looked, with great interest, at the two squares of cloth laid out on the large rug. She was a thin, pale little creature-- almost more child in appearance than a woman but her understanding was good.    
  
“Are you  _ indeed _ my sister, then?” She asked Elizabeth, sounding a little breathless, “I wondered, that first night when you told me of your birth dates if you might be--I have hoped that you are.”   
  
Elizabeth, her mind a tumult, could only give a half-shrug, half-sob as her answer, quite unable to speak. How she wished for Papa, or Jane, or  _ Mama _ even-- someone to offer support to her when she keenly felt the want of her family.   
  
Lady Catherine, watching Elizabeth, withdrew her handkerchief from her pocket and wiped defiantly at her eyes. Such restrained expression of deep feeling was enough to break the dam in Elizabeth and she, sinking down into the chair, hung her head and broke into wracking sobs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!

It was Anne who stepped forward to her and laid a small, delicate hand on her shoulder in comfort. Elizabeth’s response to her compassionate touch was to bury her face in her hands. Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy looked on helplessly. Darcy, for a moment, raised his hand as though to touch Elizabeth’s other shoulder but then lowered it again after a moment’s thought.    
  
“I do not even have a name to give her, Darcy,” said his aunt, the rasp in her voice telling him how deeply she felt. He took her hand, so similar in shape to his Mama’s, and pressed it. “I had thought that she was buried even before I rose from my sickbed and so in my mind she has ever been ‘the lost child.’   
  
Anne stooped to speak to the sobbing girl by the fire. “I am sorry that you are so distressed,” she said with more tender feeling than Elizabeth would have thought her capable of, had she ever  _ imagined _ the necessity for it, “ _ I _ have Mama and my cousin here with me for comfort, but you do not know them as I do, do you? Tell us who you would like--we ought to have thought of it before. I am sure Mama would have a carriage sent for and anyone brought here if it would soothe you.”   
  
Elizabeth attempted to recollect herself and looked to Lady Catherine. She was stood, her hands clasped tightly together, by Mr. Darcy. At Anne’s words, she nodded in affirmation. “Forgive me, I--it is the shock of it all, I suppose. I am not given to floods of tears in general, you know. I had not expected, not  _ really _ believed that my blanket should find its twin in  _ yours _ until Mr. Darcy spread them out beside each other.” She dabbed at her eyes and clenched her hands together, “there is so much I do not  _ know _ , so much that I will  _ never _ know and I have tried to accept it over the years. I should like my Papa if you please-- my sister Jane is in London and I would not have her distressed by all this. There are no answers that she could give, for Jane was a mere infant when I was brought to Longbourn.”    
  
Mr. Darcy went to the door once again and spoke to the footman. When he returned to the fireplace he said, “it may be yet a few days Miss Benn--ah--Miss Elizabeth, before Mr. Bennet comes. Shall I bring you Mrs. Collins in the meantime?”   
  
Elizabeth shook her head with certainty, wondering, in the face of his clear desire to show kindness to her, if perhaps she may have misjudged the aloof and haughty Mr. Darcy, “No, for you may depend upon it that she would write to Lady Lucas of the goings-on here and I should prefer that uncertain news does not return to Hertfordshire before I do.” She had spoken absently, hardly thinking beyond the likelihood of Lady Lucas spreading such delicious gossip about Meryton and the likely difficulties it may cause. She had not anticipated the strength of the reaction that her musing would bring.

“But there can be no question of that!” exclaimed Lady Catherine, “why should you return to Longbourn? You must stay  _ here _ , with  _ us _ .” 

Elizabeth’s gaze, which had once again returned thoughtfully to the blankets, shot up. Warily, she responded, “Longbourn is my home, Lady Catherine, and the Bennets are my family--why should I  _ not _ return thence?”   
  
“But they are not your  _ blood _ !” replied Lady Catherine, “Do you  _ reject _ us, Elizabeth, when we have only just found you? You cannot stay with the Bennets, it must not be, it would not do at all--Darcy, you must make her see how improper it would be.”   
  
Mr. Darcy recognised in his aunt the beginnings of panic in her strident tones. He knew as Elizabeth did not yet, that the more forceful the Lady appeared, the greater her upheaval.    
  
“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth, for you to return to Longbourn  _ now _ would be quite out of the question. It is impossible.” He had tried to say it gently, but to Elizabeth, thinking of her own rising worry, he sounded condescending.   
  
Tersely, Elizabeth rapped out her response. “It is not at  _ all _ out of the question, Mr. Darcy. As for being  _ impossible _ , I imagine it will be made possible in much the same way as I arrived in Hunsford. I will merely perform the same journey in reverse. What is  _ impossible _ , sir, is my being removed from my home and my family when I most need them. You cannot possibly expect me, on such spurious evidence--” she made an angry gesture with her hand toward the white squares of cloth on the floor, “to cut off my connections with my Mama and Papa and all my sisters.” 

“ _I_ am your Mama, girl!” said Lady Catherine, her distress now plain to everyone in the room, seeing it, Anne winced, “I have evidence enough to prove it. I cannot fathom why you should wish to leave Rosings when it is the place of your birth and the estate in which long lines of your ancestors have lived. Why should you wish to leave here when you have been gone for so long already? If I must, I will forbid it, you are a de Bourgh and for you to think of yourself as anything other than that is not to be endured. It _shall_ not be endured.”  
  
Mr. Darcy looked grim and led Anne, who was now weeping, to a seat a little farther off.   
  
“And if I do not _wish_ to be a de Bourgh? If it means that I must not see the people, _good_ _people_ , who raised me as their own then I think I had much better stay a Bennet. _I_ did not seek you out! I have been content enough as the adopted daughter of a country squire, I can go back to being such quite easily.”  
  
“Cousin,” began Mr. Darcy, attempting to strike a reasonable tone, but he was interrupted.   
  
“ _Miss Bennet_ ,” snapped she.  
  
Riled, Mr. Darcy abandoned his attempt to reason gently and responded in kind. “Madam, you will find that the laws of this country do not permit a young woman to discard her birth as she pleases. The law would support us, your own kin, you are yet a minor, after all, and we have the evidence before us.”  
  
Lady Catherine was not a silent onlooker in this exchange, she nodded at this and interjected, “Yes-- yes, that is very true, Darcy.”  
  
Elizabeth laughed then but it was not a happy sound. She would not have been pleased to hear it at that moment, but she sounded very like Lady Catherine when she was darkly amused by something. She had laughed in such a way when Sir Lewis de Bourgh had been buried and letters of condolence arrived. Mr. Darcy noted it and looked down to Anne, the pale girl nodded weakly in acknowledgement. To Anne, the day had brought her the dearest wish of her heart-- that her sister might be found and Sir Lewis’ wrongs be righted. It seemed a dreadful nightmare that instead of bringing happiness and joy, this reunion brought tears and dispute. It had never occurred to her, on the occasions that she had dared to dream of finding her sister, that the sister might not _want_ them. Still, there was something thrillingly familiar, thought Anne, about seeing Elizabeth so eloquently relating her position. When _she_ had disagreed with her cousin on a matter, Anne had stifled any impulse to argue with him if it was not necessary. Mr. Darcy was an intimidating man in a temper, such as he was in now.  
  
“The _law_ would support you, Mr. Darcy? Based on an old blanket, _spurious_ circumstantial evidence and the fact that my colouring is similar to a hundred other people in England?” With heavy sarcasm, she continued, “I should be fascinated to find out if any honest judge in the country would even hear such a case.”  
  
Mr. Darcy, his brows drawn together and his mouth set as he listened to Elizabeth, did not hesitate to make known his opinion. That the young lady, so far from having contrived to appear to be his long lost cousin should be so _dismissive_ of her mother and sister and wilfully blind to the import of the receiving blankets, seemed unnecessarily cruel to him. “My uncle, Miss Bennet, _is_ a such a judge and I assure you, he would. I am sure one look at the evidence would quite decide the matter.”  
  
To his surprise, Elizabeth was not silenced by this, her hold on her temper being well and truly lost. “Evidence, Mr. Darcy, may very easily be burnt. I should hate to do it, you understand, having been so fond of it all my life, but I will not be dictated to or ordered about as _you_ seem to think I ought to be.”  
  
It was Miss de Bourgh who spoke then, she trembled violently and looked so vulnerable that Elizabeth, for an instant, was reminded of Jane on the day that she heard of Mr. Bingley's desertion. Like Jane, however, it seemed that Miss de Bourgh would speak up where she felt herself to be right.  
  
“For you to even suggest such a thing, Miss Elizabeth, is every bit as cruel as Sir Lewis’ actions in ordering that you should be murdered in the first place. How can you say such a thing, can you not see that your history is not merely _yours_ to destroy?”  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra posting because I got a nice little writing fest in today.
> 
> The arguing is as bad as it gets.
> 
> Now I am going to run and hide because I am not sure you will be that impressed with this! 
> 
> Regardless, thank you for reading!

Ashamed at Miss de Bourgh’s words and, not being an unkind girl in general, Elizabeth begged her pardon for having caused her distress. She may feel by turns bewildered and angry but Lizzy had no desire to actively wound the quiet young lady. Her head was beginning to throb, as it always did when she had been weeping. Elizabeth wandered over to the mantle above the fire and looked for a moment at the ornamental fruit there, attempting to compose herself. She was only partially successful, while she could acquit Anne de Bourgh of cruelty, Mr. Darcy still needed to be put in his place. He at least, having known her in Hertfordshire-- having met her parents, ought to have seen how deeply she cared for them.   
  
“Forgive me, Miss de Bourgh, I had not intended--I spoke in anger. Mr. Darcy has no notion of how to speak to a lady, I do not think.” Anne, from her place at her mama’s side, for she had crossed the room to her and taken her hand, dabbed at her eyes and nodded, both at Elizabeth’s apology and the remarks regarding her cousin.

Mr. Darcy demonstrated the truth of it by making the regrettable mistake of speaking again and showed a streak of ruthlessness that Elizabeth had always suspected that he possessed. Clearly, he was not a man that could forget his anger in an instant. His jaw was still set and he had stood, evidently with some intention of intimidating her given the great advantage of his height. 

“Should you, Madam, reject the claims of my Aunt, I will seek legal recourse on her behalf. You may depend upon it that I will leave no stone unturned in my efforts to have you legally acknowledged as my Aunt’s daughter.”   
  
“I am sure I do not in the least bit care what you may choose to waste your time with, Mr. Darcy,” flung Elizabeth at him, not in the least bit caring if she was adding fuel to the fire. Let him resent her, she certainly did not care a jot.

His voice, which had been rising a little in volume, dropped and he spoke quietly again, he being now in the grip of cold anger. 

“Furthermore,” he said, as though she had not spoken, “should you resist, I will personally give instruction to my legal men that the de Bourgh family wishes to seek legal recourse against the Bennet family on the charge of unlawful kidnapping.”   
  
If Mr. Darcy had thought that such threats would put Elizabeth in her place and turn her into a meeker, more biddable version of herself he was quite in error. Miss Bennet, utterly outraged, burgeoning headache now quite forgotten, did what she had never before done in her entire life.

She, without thought, picked up an apple from the mantle, hand-carved in Italy and made from Pentelic marble, and launched it in the direction of Mr. Darcy’s head. Unsatisfied with this, for he ducked out of the way, she well-nigh snarled at him as the heavy fruit dropped with a thud on the thickly piled rug upon which he had retreated to.  
  
“You are _abominable_ ! In what nation, what just and upright society, can a family who has cared for a baby and saved her life be prosecuted for such? You are _wrong_ , Mr. Darcy, and heartless and far, far crueller than I to even _think_ of such injustice.”

Lady Catherine, with great dignity, insisted on having her part in the conversation then as Mr. Darcy looked at the fallen apple in shock.

“Perhaps a compromise, Elizabeth?” Lady Catherine’s voice was dry as she interjected-- had Lizzy been paying it the proper attention, she might have caught in it the very faintest strains of amusement.   
  
Lizzy, still glaring at Mr. Darcy, who was staring at her with narrow-eyed contempt, nodded and returned to her chair.   
  
“I shall tell you plainly, Lady Catherine, should this _gentleman_ use such methods as he has threatened, I will disclaim any knowledge of that blanket and disappear until the end of August, it matters not if I was born on the first day or the thirty-first, by September I will have attained my majority and be legally able to decide whom I will and will not see. I shall tell you now that Mr. Darcy will _not_ be on the former list.” 

“I only associate with _ladies_ , madam, and having seen such behaviour as you have just now displayed I do not think there is anything to concern you.”   
  
“It may interest you to know, Darcy, that I myself have thrown one or two ornaments in my time--one of them was in this very room toward Sir Lewis. Your own mother, in fact, when she was fifteen, smashed the Countess of Matlock's favourite vase in a fit of pique,” mused Lady Catherine de Bourgh, looking at Elizabeth who when enraged looked very like she did. 

It took Lady Catherine to see what the others in the room did not. She saw that Elizabeth, quite shocked and overwhelmed, had been made terribly afraid by her nephews words. Elizabeth did not know him as she did-- that he was all the sterner when he met with unexpected resistance. Poor Darcy, he had been very much in the habit of having his own way in all things.

“I can assure you, my dear, that I have no intention of permitting my nephew to harm your family-- I do not suppose he meant it, at any rate. If Mr. Bennet’s information is correct about their part in your life, then I am in their debt.”  
  
Mr. Darcy was apparently quite flummoxed by this unexpected rejoinder and bowed silently to his aunt. Lizzy avoided looking at him, lest they should begin arguing again. Cross words were getting them nowhere.   
  
Miss de Bourgh, apparently of the same mind, spoke, “We should all get on rather better if we could attempt to be civil. Cousin, your _extensive_ influence,” this was said pleasantly enough but with the faintest trace of familiar sarcasm, “might be rather better used by digging up the ancient past. We need the name of the orphanage my sister was taken to and preferably a witness to write their account.” The older girl then turned to Elizabeth, who was looking at her with interest. “Miss Elizabeth, if one of your Bennet sisters’ had been lost and you discovered, years later, that you may have found her--would you give her up so easily, would you complacently permit her to go from the home that she should have known and loved all her life? I think that you would not.”   
  
Lizzy swallowed, “I allow that I should not, Miss de Bourgh, but the possibility, in _this_ case, of a mistake, an error, remains.”   
  
“I claim you as my sister!” exclaimed the other girl suddenly, with a passion that surprised all in the room except her mother. “I _believe_ that you are she...that I ought to have known you all my life and believing thus...I _claim_ you. I am not so frightened of the possibility of change as you are, it seems.”   
  
“I am not a coward, Miss de Bourgh.”   
  
“Anne!” objected that lady, nearing tears again but looking so fierce that Elizabeth thought she looked very much like her Mama. Miss de Bourgh raised her hand to her forehead. It seemed that Lizzy was not the only one with a bad head. She gentled her tone.   
  
“You must understand. I--I have always thought that my birth family must have given me away. If-- _if_ these suppositions are correct, it seems that my father may have done far worse.”   
  
“And so you will reject us, because of _him_ ? It is a very good thing that he is already dead because if he were still of this world I should even now have been plotting his exit from it.”   
  
“Anne, my dear,” said Lady Catherine seriously, a certain vicious gleam in her eye that made Mr. Darcy start and examine his Aunt closely, “it would hardly be necessary.” 

“It is not so much rejection, Miss de--- _Miss_ Anne, but someone must think clearly in all of this and acknowledge that my having that blanket is not conclusive proof. I do not even _look_ like any of you. I have always--I have always supposed that I would bear some strong resemblance to my kin. You and I are so different, you must see that.”   
  
Tired now, in spite of the day barely being half done, Elizabeth sunk down into the chair that she had been occupying and buried her head in her hands once more. Her head ached and she pressed her fingers to her temples in an attempt to ward off the pressure.   
  
“Your head is paining you,” stated Lady Catherine, “you had better retire to bed.” She rose to ring the bell. “I would take it as a great favour if you would remain at Rosings, as a guest, for the present.” It cost her greatly, to phrase it so-- for she felt that had circumstances been different, Elizabeth de Bourgh should have heeded her mother’s orders without a moments thought and instantly capitulated. A glance at the marble apple that Darcy had stooped to pick up with the oddest expression on his face, made her reconsider that likelihood.   
  
“Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth weakly, “I might be the illegitimate daughter of a cow herder, is it not better that I remain at the parsonage?”   
  
“I do not think it.” returned the Lady and rose to ring the bell. “Anne also is plagued with megrims, I shall have a draught sent up to you that helps her prodigiously. Sleep, Elizabeth. Regardless of which of us is correct, it is entirely appropriate for you to remain, you are in no fit state to return to the parsonage-- I will send a note to Mrs. Collins. Even if you are not who I think you are, your cooperation can only aid you.” 

  



	8. Chapter 8

Elizabeth slept for many hours in the dark. Her hostess had thoughtfully, or officiously-- she couldn’t quite decide which, draped her childhood blanket over her shoulders as she lay down on the little bed. A maid had brought forth a vile liquid concoction that Miss de Bourgh had assured her was worth the taste.    
  
“It is not at all pleasant, Miss Elizabeth, but if you drink it down quickly and go directly to sleep, it will help immensely. I shall have a dose of the same myself soon.” 

Anne de Bourgh seemed to have resigned herself to the distance of formality that Elizabeth had argued for downstairs-- but there was a tightness about her mouth when she said it that made Elizabeth suspect that she had not capitulated on the matter. 

Lizzy lay down, her head paining her enough that she could hardly think of anything. Her eyes felt sore and she closed them, glad that the drapes had been drawn and there was relief from the stabbing pain that the April daylight brought. Perhaps there was a sedative of some sort in that glass, for she felt very drowsy within minutes of lying down and quickly slept a dreamless sleep.   
  
When she awoke, it was with a far clearer head and a decided feeling of oddness to look around the richly furnished room. It was impossible to determine whether it was night or day, the clock read that the hour was past seven but whether that was evening or morning she could not tell. Memories of what had passed before flooded her and it was some ten minutes together before she rung the heavily embroidered bell cord by the fireplace and waited for a servant. The long, blue velvet curtains were pushed a little to the side as she waited and the grey light offered no further clue as to the time of day. The room she was in overlooked a formally laid out garden, the design showing well from above-- it looked like a maze to her eyes, the gravelled paths neatly laid out as they were. A tall hedge bordered the garden, the furthest side from the house showed a promising gate that Elizabeth could see from her vantage point, led out to a prettyish kind of wilderness and then beyond that, an avenue of trees to parkland. Elizabeth let the soft, heavy material fall back across the view of those gardens before her mind could persuade her that she wished to explore the paths. It was only a step from there to thinking of such things as how familiar she might already be had she grown up here and she would not dwell on  _ that _ .    
  
She could feel a certain amount of pity now, for Lady Catherine, an old woman so clearly longing for that which had been lost to her. Elizabeth would require Papa to come to Rosings for it seemed that he might be able to provide some evidence or knowledge that might counteract the string of suppositions that had been made in this house regarding her birth. If not, then perhaps Uncle Gardiner, who had also had a hand in bringing her to Longbourn, might remember something of import.    
  
There was a  _ possibility _ , Lizzy acknowledged, that she was wrong. That she was in fact, Elizabeth de Bourgh but she did not permit herself to think on that for long. It would be wrong, in  _ every _ way to take the place of another foundling, another lost child, when she was not certain of the facts. Perhaps there was another girl her age somewhere whose father had betrayed her and was sitting even now, wondering at her origins. It was even possible that the child had died, many infants did after all, and the beautiful blanket was put to use on another baby who had need of it.    
  
A maid entered, “Good evening, Miss. Her Ladyship has requested that you join them in the library. It is down the north staircase and from there you will see it, there is a statue of a hound near the door.” Elizabeth wondered what the maid knew-- servants had an uncanny knack for being well informed as to the goings-on in a house.

Elizabeth entered the library to find Mr. Darcy seated at an ornate desk that seemed a little too small for his tall frame and Lady Catherine stood beside him, apparently telling him how to write his own letter. Elizabeth took a moment to observe her-- she was a large woman, very different in frame to herself, she could only assume that Miss de Bourgh’s father had been a very little man, given that  _ she _ had clearly not inherited her Mama’s height.   
  
“Do not forget the parish, Darcy-- it is possible that the Church nearest the foundling hospital might have some records.”   
  
“Very well Aunt, I shall need Miss Elizabeth to give me the direction of--”   
  
He looked up as she cleared her throat and laid down his pen. He pushed his chair back from the desk, stood and bowed. How was it possible that such a rude man was in some ways so very punctilious about good manners? She nodded briefly in acknowledgement.    
  
Lady Catherine studied her, “you are feeling better. Good, I am glad of it, it will be much easier to decide upon a course of action with your head not paining you so much. Anne has gone to rest for a few hours, she asked to be woken when you came down but I think we will permit her an additional half an hour--she has had as trying a morning as all of us, after all.”   
  
A little uncomfortable with the scrutiny Elizabeth nodded again, and said, “The draught seems to have chased it away quite adequately, Lady Catherine-- I am impressed, for whenever I have had such a headache before, I have been quite unable to rise again for much of the day. What direction do you require of me, Mr. Darcy?”   
  
His eyebrows twitched together at the change in her tone to barely concealed insolence but he mastered the impulse to retort and coolly replied, “You spoke of an Uncle, madam, when you mentioned that Mr. Bennet sent to London for a baby. I should like to interview him.”   
  
“Mr. Gardiner of Gracechurch Street. He does not commonly trade in infants-- but rather spices, my Aunt Gardiner was then involved in charitable work in the area that often brought her into contact with orphaned children. I assume that is why Papa wrote to them.” 

Mr. Darcy, his head bent in concentration wrote down the details. 

“To whom else will you write, sir?” asked Elizabeth, making her tone a little more polite than it had been earlier.   
  
“In London I shall speak to the curators of St. Bartholomews and also to Mr. Gardiner. I will attempt to contact Sir Lewis’ old secretary also. I understand that the midwife who was attending her Ladyship may be still alive and living in Waybridge--some ten miles away from here...I will ride  _ there _ in the morning.”

Elizabeth turned to Lady Catherine, “I should like my Father to come to Kent, even if he has nothing of import to add above that which was mentioned in his letter. I have always valued his counsel.”

Lady Catherine nodded. “Pen him a note, by all means, I shall have it sent by express, he keeps a carriage? If he does not I shall have one sent.”   
  
Elizabeth, surprised by such generousity to a man Lady Catherine had never met, quietly confirmed that he did, and was surprised when Mr. Darcy stood from the desk and drew her out a fresh piece of paper. He, with an open hand, offered her his pen and seat. It made her feel more charitable toward him and as he positioned the chair for her when she sat, she looked up at him and hesitated briefly.

“What is it, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, not quite impatiently.

“I wish to apologise for having thrown that apple at you, sir. I have never before in my life acted so. I am sorry.” There had been provocation, certainly, but that did not follow that she had behaved as she should have.   
  
His expression, so habitually still and unyielding, softened in the face of such a frank apology and his hard eyes gentled, “it is forgotten, Miss Elizabeth. Do not dwell on it, I can appreciate that you have undergone considerable trial today, away from those you call your family. There is no one here that wishes you unhappy. Her ladyship pointed that out to me at some considerable length while you were asleep. Write your note to Mr. Bennet and I will see it is sent off directly.”

Elizabeth sat to do so and was aware of his steadfast gaze on her as she wrote. Her letter was completed in very little time and she looked up to find him still watching her. Lady Catherine at least had moved a little way from them, even if she watched just as closely. 

“Has a note been sent to the parsonage? I should not wish Mrs. Collins to worry, for all that she was to be occupied in the village much of the day. My not returning for dinner may inconvenience her, I am afraid.”   
  
Lady Catherine answered, “I wrote myself, Elizabeth, informing them that you had taken to bed and that they should not look for you for the present. I also ensured that the servant should bring your clothes.”    
  
“Am I to remain here then?” asked Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy, who had been busily sealing her letter with wax, looked up from his task quickly. 

“We cannot keep you here against your will, Miss Elizabeth, but it would be far simpler if you would consent to do so. Your father, for example, when he comes will find ample room at Rosings, but Mrs. Collins might be obliged to struggle for sufficient rooms. It would ease Lady Catherine’s mind if you would stay. There will be much talking to be done and privacy will be necessary.”

“How reasonable you make it sound, Mr. Darcy!” said Elizabeth, wondering why he could not have phrased it so in the first place. Perhaps she had not been in a frame of mind to listen earlier, she acknowledged to herself. “Very well. I wonder, Madam,” she said, turning to Lady Catherine, “if I might wander out in your shrubbery until I must dress for dinner. I am in great need of some fresh air and your gardens look to be well-tended.”    
  
  
  


  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Evidently, Mr. Bennet had been expecting such a summons as the rider from Lady Catherine de Bourgh brought, for there was a very little delay in his arrival to Rosings Park. Before even Mr. Darcy had returned from Waybridge to visit the midwife, Mr. Bennet had received into his arms his little Lizzy. So relieved was she by his arrival that she could scarcely wait for the liveried footman to open the door and let down the step before casting herself upon him.   
  
Mr. Bennet stroked her dark hair for a moment, meeting the eyes of Lady Catherine de Bourgh over her head, before holding his daughter away from him and kissing her forehead. 

“Well now, Elizabeth-- I see that I ought to have come just as soon as her Ladyship sent me that letter but I did not wish to bestir myself from Longbourn if it was not necessary. You are unhappy, my child?”

“Oh, Papa!” said Elizabeth, pulling closer again to him and speaking into his coat-- “I cannot tell you what I feel, or what I think-- I have been so  _ bewildered _ .”

Lady Catherine approached the pair of them, something almost like jealousy ate at her, at the sight of her own daughter receiving comfort from this man but she nodded to him, reminding herself sternly that it was a good thing for Elizabeth to have the man she called father there. He had evidently been a better father than the one she was born to, judging by how trustingly she laid her forehead on his shoulder for a moment. 

If her tone was more polite than welcoming the grey-haired country gentleman did not notice. “Mr. Bennet-- how do you do. You are welcome to Rosings. This is my eldest daughter-- Miss de Bourgh.” Anne made a slight bow, her face was frozen. She did not disguise her thoughts so well as her mother. “Come inside sir, my servants will see to your things.”

Mr. Bennet released Elizabeth altogether now and bowed in Lady Catherine’s direction. “Good day, your ladyship, Miss de Bourgh. Thank you, Madam-- I should be glad to. Come along, Lizzy, let us not provide sport for the watching eyes of the servants.”   
  
“Yes, Papa,” said Elizabeth, obediently, but would not release his arm as they walked together through the ornately carved stone archway that led to the front door. She wished that she could ask him openly for his impressions of the place-- did he look at the ornate carvings and smile inwardly, just as she had? Had he noticed the carpeted staircase and been impressed by the luxury of it or did he scoff at such an unnecessary expense? She would tease him about it, were she not feeling so unlike herself. 

At the foot of the staircase, Lady Catherine addressed Mr. Bennet. “The footman will show you up to your rooms, Mr. Bennet-- we shall be in the blue salon before luncheon. My nephew, Mr. Darcy-- I understand that you are already acquainted-- has ridden to Waybridge this morning, a small town five or six miles from this house, but he ought to return in time for luncheon to be served.”   
  
When Mr. Bennet returned downstairs he had changed from his travelling clothes and entered the blue salon. He saw that Elizabeth had seated herself alone on one seat whilst Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh sat beside each other on another finely upholstered sofa. Mr. Bennet felt a pang of sympathy for her. From her earliest, Elizabeth had been a sociable girl-- often leading Jane by the hand when his older daughter felt afflicted by shyness. He was not used to seeing her sat alone unless it was with a book in her hand and even then she would often relate to those nearby what her thoughts on the narrative were. 

Lady Catherine addressed him as he entered, “Ah, Mr. Bennet-- I trust that you will find your rooms comfortable, but of course, I should be surprised if you should not. Guests to Rosings Park do not often find aught to complain of with my arrangements.”

There was no discernible mockery in Mr. Bennet’s answer as he responded, “Then indeed how could I dare do otherwise, your ladyship. They look to be very pleasant furnishings. Mrs. Bennet will very likely press me for details of them and I imagine will take the opportunity to remind me that the guest rooms at Longbourn could do with being refurbished.” Lady Catherine, gesturing Mr. Bennet to a seat, did not care for the mention of the woman who had mothered Elizabeth in her place. She returned to her own place beside Anne and took her hand. She had been curious to see Mr. Bennet and was quite relieved to find him gentlemanly in appearance. He dressed simply, but it was clear enough to her eye that his tailor was skilled enough. 

Mr. Bennet, not unaware of Lady Catherine’s scrutiny, crossed the room and took Elizabeth’s hand. “Your mother, you will be unsurprised to learn, retired to her bed in hysterics when I related to her the general gist of her ladyship’s enquiry. I think that she will recover, however-- Jane comes home from London next week. I cannot stay above a few days, my love, however much I should like to.”

Lizzy raised dark eyes to his face and replied in low tones, “Mama and my sisters will need you. I do understand. Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy were discussing this morning that the Earl of Matlock should be written to-- you may tell Mama that, sir...I daresay it might bring some cheer.”

Her brave attempt at her usual good-humoured raillery with him fell a little flat in the face of the tender sympathy in his eyes and she looked about her for a change of subject. 

“Lady Catherine, I should very much like to show Papa your park here-- and I am sure that you should like to stretch your legs after having been confined to a carriage for so long, sir. Should you have any objection to me doing so?”

Her Ladyship, seeing that nothing of any import could be discussed until Mr. Darcy returned, even went so far as to recommend to the pair which particular walks they should take-- she would have shown them about the place herself, she said, but Miss de Bourgh was not at all fond of walking and thus she would remain.

The pair set off away from the house and spoke not a word until Mr. Bennet paused in his step and turned back to survey the building. The day was grey for the time of year but every so often the sun broke through the clouds and transformed the scenery from pretty enough to delightful and charming. 

“It is a grand house to belong to, Elizabeth, if you do indeed belong to it.”

Lizzy turned with him and looked also. Rosings was a grand house-- it stood out from the landscape in all its imposing glory but at present, all she could do was to look at it a little glumly.

“I feel nothing for the place, Papa. It is not at all like Longbourn.”    
  
He turned to her in some surprise.“Why should you feel anything for it, Lizzy? You know nothing of its history or its secrets. You cannot expect that you should immediately feel great loyalty to a place that you have never so much as been near for twenty years of your life, merely because it may well be the place of your birth.”   


They walked on together arm in arm. “I think we will dispense with Lady Catherine’s advice regarding the direction we should take at present and head toward that hill-- I rather like the look of that old oak atop it-- it stands like an infant’s drawing against the sky. I remember you drawing many such a landscape with your charcoals, Lizzy.”   
  
She smiled at that, “Aye-- and never improved much beyond that standard in accomplishment. Miss de Bough doubtless quite outstrips me.”   
  
He seized on the subject, “Is that what is worrying you so? That there will be some inevitable disparity in your education?”    
  
“Oh no, for she does not play at all, you know-- Lady Catherine said as much herself. At least in that I may be confident of some superiority.”   
  
“What is then, my love?” Some discomfort at the change I had expected, but I had not anticipated that you would greet the likelihood of having found your family, your birth family, with such a downcast countenance.”

“Oh Papa!” cried Elizabeth, “if only I could be  _ certain _ then perhaps I should not be. I do not quite know what I expected to find, whenever I have daydreamed that my relatives should find me but it was certainly not  _ this _ ! I had thought that perhaps there would at least be a strong, undeniable family resemblance or some such thing or some clear evidence that could not be  _ explained _ away. It is the possibility of all of this being a misunderstanding that worries me so.”    
  
“Lady Catherine mentioned a blanket that had a match in yours, Elizabeth-- what is so weak about such evidence as that, my love?”   
  
“Oh, I do not know! It just seems too incredible to be believed, Papa. Perhaps the real Miss de Bourgh was brought to the same institution as I and the blankets were exchanged in error somehow?”   
  
“And you think this a more likely scenario than your being Elizabeth de Bourgh?”

She was silent. When put in such plain terms her thoughts seemed rather less rational than she had thought them. 

Mr. Bennet continued on, seeing that she was at last thinking rather than just feeling. “If you were to look upon the evidence that as an outsider, Lizzy-- what advice would you give? Would you agree that this being your homeland was very unlikely or would you argue that the circumstances point to the truth being otherwise?”   
  
They climbed the small hill, upon which was the oak that Mr. Bennet had espied. Elizabeth ran a hand over the old tree-- so large it was that its girth was beyond the span of her arms reach. 

“I should think, my dearest daughter,” Mr. Bennet spoke quietly, looking up to the wide-spreading canopy of the oak tree, “that had you spent your childhood in a place such as this, you might have come often to this hill and enjoyed this pretty spot. Doubtless, you might have even tried to read in its branches once or twice.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I was so delayed in answering your kind comments and that this is late! I have been on holiday. Hope you enjoy.

Mr. Bennet regarded Elizabeth, her arm was outstretched, a fingertip tracing the rough bark of the tree. “Speaking of that which would bring your mother’s displeasure upon you--”  
  
“Which one?” interjected she, the downward movement of her hand paused for a moment. She spoke with some of her usual wit and a dry curling of her mouth, her father was glad to see it.

“Both or either, I should imagine-- although Mrs. Bennet would at least not be so very surprised to find that you had run off from your lessons to read in a tree. That is by the by-- I have a letter for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. 

Elizabeth glanced at the front of it. “It is Mama’s hand.”

“Yes, I should hope that it is, given that she wrote it. Are you not going to open it?”  
  
“Do you know what she has written, Papa?” Elizabeth looked nervous and Mr. Bennet frowned.

“I have been married to your mother for the space of twenty-four years, Elizabeth. We may understand one another only rarely but that does not make your mother any less predictable. I shall bear you company while you read it, my dear.”

Elizabeth broke the seal, it was brief, as Mrs. Bennet’s letters usually were-- only Mr. Bennet could boast a greater economy for words when it came to writing. 

_My dearest Lizzy,_   
  
_The days after that August birth are decidedly hazy for me, I was very weak and quite out of my mind with grief, but I remember so very clearly how relieved I felt when someone handed you to me and said that you needed me as much as I needed you._   
  
_I cleaned you up, you were such a little thing, the birth lines on your forehead had not faded yet and still flared up very red when you wailed for your milk. I have loved you Elizabeth, from that very day, I am convinced that I should have died of my broken heart if I had not been too busy trying to make you live._   
  
_It has never mattered to me that I was not the mother that gave birth to you, in every single other way I have been your Mama and will remain so until the day I die. I cannot see in the least that Lady Catherine if she is your true family, could have done any more for you than I have._   
  
_Yours,_   
_  
_Mama 

It was so typical of Mrs. Bennet that it elicited from Elizabeth a laugh that ended on a strangled sob. Some of her worry that she had not even admitted to herself left her upon reading the closing paragraph. Her Mama would remain her Mama-- that same Mrs. Bennet who had scolded her for dirtying her hems and sat beside her when she was sick, she would not cut her off or forget her just because others wished to lay claim to her. It eased the knot of unhappiness in her breast, to know that Mama felt so. 

“Retrospectively, I had half expected that she would be only too delighted to hear that Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park had decreed that I was also belonging to such an illustrious family.”  
  
“Then you wronged her, Lizzy,” said Papa, with quiet disapproval. 

“It seems that I did.”

“Should you ever become a parent you will know just how little likelihood there is of being delighted to be parted from our children. Lady Catherine too--”  
  
“And Lady Catherine must be pitied also, then,” murmured Elizabeth, completing his thought and looking toward Rosings. 

“Yes. When our son died, Elizabeth, we, at least, knew of it and did not have to wonder. Lady Catherine must have spent your whole life fretting over what had become of you.”

“Sir Lewis told her I had died at first, Papa. If all she says is true of him, he was a wicked man-- the like of which I have only ever read of. She did not know that he had ordered me got rid of apparently, it was the midwife that saved me-- Lady Catherine was very ill.”

“She must be a woman of considerable fortitude to have endured that.”   
  
“Yes, that is certainly true.”   
  
“I have often thought that you have some strength of character, Elizabeth.” 

“What?! Do you accuse me of being so domineering as Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

“Accuse? Not at all--I am merely pointing out that there are certain traits of character within you both.”

“And how are we to tell whether my less admirable qualities have been passed onto me at birth or have been bred into me during my lifetime? It is a conundrum.”

“Your considerable cheek cannot have come from Longbourn, I am sure of it.”  
  
She laughed at that, there was no one in the world to equal her father for well-crafted sarcasm. Her spirits were lifted in his company and she felt, for the first time that she might unravel this confusing knot of feeling within her. She stooped to the circle of bare earth beneath the thick canopy and picked up a twig that had fallen there.   
  
“Come Lizzy, there is much I am curious about concerning your origins, my dear. I daresay that I should like to speak with Lady Catherine every bit as much as she would like to question me. We shall walk back-- oh, as slowly as you please,” he added when he saw her face fall, “but you must enlighten me to the detail of all that I do not know. You would not have me face Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy with ignorance now would you?”   
  
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” she said crossly, tearing small strips of bark from the twig in her hand and casting them to the ground. “I cannot at all like the man, Papa, for all that he _may_ be my cousin. You may add that to the list of my reasons for thinking I cannot be a de Bourgh-- to be related to such a man would be quite dreadful.”   
  
Mr. Bennet looked wry, “I see no difficulty there, for you did not like Mr. Collins either. One is not obliged to like one’s relatives, Lizzy, _particularly_ the ones we cannot help.”

Again he won from her an appreciative smile, “you are a fount of helpful wisdom, father.” 

“What can Mr. Darcy have done to earn your displeasure now, or can it be that you are still so deeply wounded by his dismissal of you so long ago in Meryton?”

“Wounded! I am sure that I was not, sir-- why, I am quite, _quite_ indifferent to whatever Mr. Darcy may think of me. If I dislike him, I certainly have just cause. If there was ever any doubt as to Mr. Wickham's dealings with the man, they have been quite dispelled. On the very day Lady Catherine interviewed me and demanded to see my blanket he was present and watching me as though I were some villain waiting to trick the lady out of some great fortune. When Lady Catherine declared that I could not return to Longbourn I was greatly upset as you may imagine and so resisted in the strongest possible terms. Mr. Darcy then showed a quite unpleasant side of his character and threatened legal proceedings against the Bennet family on charges of kidnapping should I refuse their _preposterous_ claims.”   
  
“Did he indeed?” said Mr. Bennet, gravely. “What it must be to have such boundless resources to waste in such a fashion. Go on, my dear-- your antagonism toward the man is quite comprehensible-- although I should like to know what your _strong resistance_ , as you put it, might have looked like. If I do not miss my guess, it must have been enough to provoke the man into speaking so unwisely.”

They walked back together, as slowly as Elizabeth could manage without being too obvious and she related to him all that she knew. As she told it to him, a grudging acceptance began to form within her mind that there was a chance that the suppositions may well be correct. She did not feel like a de Bourgh-- she was Elizabeth Bennet to the bone, but her sense of justice demanded of her that she should at least permit the possibility to take its course. It troubled her that there was no strong family resemblance between them-- Miss de Bourgh was so very different to her, blonde and pale whilst she was dark and prone to becoming rather tanned when the sun shone. 

She considered the subject of Miss de Bourgh, once she had fully imparted to her father the happenings of her time in Kent and they walked together in silence. The girl-- or rather woman, she supposed-- who could be her sister by blood. How strange! To think that there was one alive in the world with a stronger claim to her devotion than her dearest Jane. It was odd to think of the de Bourgh ladies, sat so properly in the blue salon, clad in rich fabrics and subjecting poor Mrs. Jenkinson to their whims and desires. What were they speaking of even now, as she walked out with Papa? It might well be _her_ they spoke of, believing her to be the lost baby girl who had been cruelly wrenched from her mother’s care. 

Pity emerged within her as she mused on these things and consequently when she had changed from her boots and into her slippers and found them, that she spoke in far gentler tones than she had done previously. Compassion had risen within her, once she had been able to see past her own cares, and her kind nature reasserted itself. She smiled on Miss Anne de Bourgh and nodded to her ladyship when the pair of them looked up eagerly at her reentry. It looked as though they had not stirred from their places since she had quit the room with Papa-- they had been sat, quietly waiting for her return. 

Whoever she was, these two ladies had lost and suffered much.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look. Extra. ;) 
> 
> Make sure you go back and read chapter 10 if you haven't already. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.

“Miss Elizabeth,” greeted Anne de Bourgh, “did you enjoy your walk?” Lady Catherine had been penning a letter, not having heard Lizzy enter and looked up at Anne’s greeting. For an unguarded moment, Elizabeth saw on the older ladies face all the upheaval and hope that she must have carried within her for many long years. Little wonder that Anne de Bourgh had been so protected.    
  
Lizzy smiled, it did not feel quite natural yet, to greet the two warmly-- but at least she might manage civility and pleasantness.    
  
“Yes-- thank you, Miss de Bourgh, I find that I am often set to rights after a good walk. I am grateful to you madam,” this addressed to her ladyship, “for having sent for Papa-- I find myself much comforted by his being here.”   
  
Lady Catherine nodded, “I ought, perhaps, to have thought of it sooner-- but you will acquit me for having been at the mercy of a mother's natural feeling and being wishful to speak to you as soon as I could.”    
  
It was not an apology but Lizzy smiled her acceptance as though it were one. “Likewise, I hope that I also might be forgiven my threat to burn that blanket. I...I do not believe that I would have done so-- I have treasured it my whole life.”   
  
Another nod, this time a little briefer and her Ladyship, considering the matter closed, turned back to her letter and signed it with a flourish. “I have written to my elder brother, the Earl of Matlock-- he is the head of the Fitzwilliam family and ought to be made aware of the happenings here. I hope that he will come, he is in London at present and it will not be so far as if he had already repaired to Matlock for the summer.”    
  
Elizabeth moved to sit near Miss de Bourgh, who although not precisely smiling looked pleased enough that she had done so. “Have you many more brothers and sisters, Lady Catherine?” 

“None that survived infancy, Elizabeth--” replied Lady Catherine, noting the slight drawing together of the girls dark brows at the informal appellation, “After Anne-- Lady Anne, Mr. Darcy’s mother, passed away, it is only I and Matlock left. There are more de Bourgh Cousins than Fitzwilliam ones. Of my brothers family there are only Rupert Fitzwilliam, who is heir, and Richard-- he is a Colonel in the army. Ordinarily, Darcy comes at Easter, he is so very attached to Rosings. The others have not the same liberty as he, to come as much as they would wish to.”

Ignoring this praise of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth listened attentively, “And how many cousins do you have, Miss de Bourgh, through the paternal line?” 

The girl's pale eyebrows were not so noticeable as Elizabeth’s, but Lady Catherine noted them draw together for a moment in disappointment and nodded decisively to herself. Elizabeth might not be willing to acknowledge it but to her, the facts of the matter were quite clear.

“I do not believe my father had many brothers or sisters, Miss Elizabeth, the de Bourghs are Cousins to the Fitzwilliam family-- Mama’s mother-- the late Countess of Matlock was formerly a de Bourgh. Our cousins on the de Bourgh side are only--” 

Mr. Bennet entered and Anne, plainly unused to speaking much before strangers, broke off with a blush. Elizabeth smiled to see her father bowing over Lady Catherine’s hand with gentlemanly grace. She had no cause for shame. Papa, when willing to exert himself to please, invariably managed to do so. Lady Catherine, as was evidently her habit when company was to be had, took charge of the conversation. 

“I gave orders that you should be put in rooms that overlooked the west side of Rosings, Mr. Bennet. I trust you will find them adequate for your needs, sir.”   
  
“They are well-appointed, Lady Catherine-- you will forgive me my delay in coming, my man had some difficulty in finding the correct room, it is a very large house so I think he might be forgiven. Is the gallery I walked through the sum of de Bourgh ancestors, your ladyship?”    
  
With a gracious nod, Lady Catherine answered in her direct manner, “Most, although not all, Mr. Bennet. You will not find a portrait of the late Sir Lewis, for example.” 

“Given what Elizabeth related to me on our walk, I am not altogether unsympathetic to there being a lack of his likeness.”

Lizzy spoke up, as Anne de Bourgh sat beside her in silence, “I hope you do not mind, Lady Catherine-- I thought it might be expedient to tell Papa all I knew. He would be in the best position to know should there be any conflicts with the disappearance of your child and the delivery of myself at Longbourn.”

Mr. Bennet looked at Elizabeth steadily, it was unlike her to be clumsy in her conversation, but the pointed separation of herself and Lady Catherine’s lost daughter was very nearly boorish. 

“I think, Elizabeth--” he said gently, “that we might be better off to suppose for now that you are in fact that same child. It will avoid conversational confusion and--” he added, “be less likely to cause open dispute.”

Elizabeth flushed and nodded, she was rescued from the necessity of response by the appearance of Mr. Darcy in the room. His eye sought her out and he bowed to Mr. Bennet. 

“Darcy! You are returned in good time-- did you bring the midwife?” 

“I located her, Aunt-- she is bedridden but in possession of her wits. How do you do, Mr. Bennet. I trust that you had a smooth enough journey.”

“I have travelled fifty miles before on far worse roads, Mr. Darcy. Do not hesitate to assuage her ladyship's curiosity on my account, sir-- I am as wishful to be enlightened as she. You are speaking of the same woman who attended her Ladyship some twenty years ago? The female who took pity on the poor child and saved her life?”

Mr. Darcy bowed once again, this time in affirmation. “I rode to Waybridge, which is the place which the woman was last known to be living. I was directed, without much difficulty, to her cottage. Her daughter-in-law let me into the house and, upon hearing my errand-- permitted me to go up to her bedside.” 

He looked to his aunt with restrained pity, “Essentially, madam, the line of inquiry must close-- whilst Mrs. Tibberton remembered the circumstances very clearly, her strictures on Sir Lewis’ perfidy are as severe as  _ yours _ , I would imagine, she reiterated to me the facts of the case but informed me that the parson to whom the babe was passed” here he looked at Elizabeth, “had since contracted smallpox whilst visiting the poor and needy in a stricken part of Manchester. She told me that it was his intention to take the child to a foundling hospital in London-- they had even discussed the possibility of approaching the late Earl of Matlock but could not manage the funds to go so far North.” 

“It is a great pity that they could not, Grandfather might have protected you at Matlock,” said Anne to Elizabeth, glumly, “--and Mama should not have been so desperately unhappy.”

“Do you remember it then, Miss de Bourgh?” said Elizabeth, not intending to injure by her addressing her so, but still unwilling to call her ‘Anne’.

“I was very young, Miss Elizabeth, but I recall impressions rather better than I do the chain of events. Grief tends to pervade a house-- even so far as the nursery.”

“Yes, that is true, cousin,” agreed Mr. Darcy with a frown-- Georgiana says that the tone of the house changed when our mother died.” 

The butler knocking once, entered the room and announced that luncheon was ready. Lady Catherine stood and handed him the letter in her hand. 

“I want that sent by express to the Earl of Matlock immediately, Gibb.”

“Yes, your ladyship. Mrs. Collins has arrived, Madam. She wishes to enquire after the health of Miss Bennet.” 

Elizabeth wondered if she had imagined the slight hesitation before the old butler said ‘Bennet’. Servants everywhere seemed to know far more than their masters gave them credit for. 

“At this hour! She ought to be presiding over her own table. Send her off, Gibb and tell her to return in the morning.” Her ladyship’s dismissive tone irked Elizabeth, it was precisely the sort of thing that made her feel as though there was no possibility of the proud woman being her mother.

“One moment, Lady Catherine-- I should not wish for her to worry, might you also add a message that I am well enough and that she must not be too concerned for me?”

“I will walk round and call on my cousin in the morning, if you wish it, Lizzy-- “ offered Papa, “he is so very concerned for my health you know. Not a month goes by without a note of some sort from Hunsford enquiring after my wellbeing.”

Mr. Darcy, who had been looking at Elizabeth, turned his attention to Mr. Bennet. It was not quite a proper speech, Mr. Bennets dry sarcasm was not lost on him after all, but the brief flash of amusement on Elizabeth’s face was strangely welcome to him. 

“If Miss Elizabeth would prefer Mrs. Collins to be assured of her well-being now, Aunt-- I can speak to the lady now. If you would permit me a few moments before dinner, the thing need not take long.” 

There was nothing forceful in Mr. Darcy’s tone of voice, he sounded, to Lizzy’s ears entirely calm and reasonable. Perhaps he had prior experience in handling his aunt. Elizabeth looked to Lady Catherine, who sighed. 

“I do not like to delay dinner Darcy-- you know this very well. You may go, however, if Elizabeth likes the idea.”    
  
Lizzy said eagerly, “Oh yes! I should be much more at ease if Mr. Darcy would speak to her-- thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

“It is nothing, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied, briefly and he quit the room with Gibb in tow.

“Your nephew is a very obliging young man,” commented Mr. Bennet to Lady Catherine. 

“Yes,” remarked the lady, “he has ever been so-- if a thing may be done to help a member of the family he will not rest until it has been accomplished.” 

Anne spoke, to Elizabeth’s surprise. “He travelled all the way to Edinburgh once, to bring back a doctor to see me when I had rheumatic fever.” 

“I hope the doctor did some good to you, Miss de Bourgh,” remarked Lizzy, thinking about the extraordinary expense of such a journey. 

Anne turned her head to look at Elizabeth, her stare was quite clear and direct. “That, Miss Elizabeth, was not the point,” she said quietly. 

“Forgive me,” Lizzy murmured, aware that she had sounded critical, “I did not intend to offend you.” 

Anne smiled, “Dr. Wilson was a very unusual doctor, but I believe he helped enormously-- my cousin’s kindness touched me greatly.”

In a few minutes, Mr. Darcy returned and walked directly to Elizabeth. He sat beside her and Anne, who shifted to make room for him. Lizzy, who had not sat in such close proximity to him before, attempted to dispel her sudden discomfort.

“How does my friend, Mr. Darcy?” she asked, quickly.

“Mrs. Collins seemed relieved once I assured her that you were not gravely ill, we only spoke briefly-- she was eager to return to the parsonage but had been uneasy the whole day. She bids you to be well again soon.”

Lady Catherine had been speaking quietly to Mr. Bennet but now called out to Mr. Darcy at the chiming of the clock, “Is it done then, nephew?”

“Yes, Aunt.”

“Very well then, let us go into the dining room. We are a gentleman short but that should not matter given that there is only family present. Mr. Bennet-- I should be glad of your arm. I have much to say to you. Darcy, you may take your cousins in.”

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that last week there were two chapters posted-- if you haven't read both of them, go back and do so to avoid confusion. Longer chapter today-- thank you to all of you who are still reading and commenting. :) Enjoy!

Elizabeth did not sleep well that night, for all that she knew Papa slept in a lavishly furnished room in the same house. Life, to her seemed to be hurtling down a road that she had not chosen for herself. Lady Catherine’s reference to her as Mr. Darcy’s cousin had not pleased her-- she should much rather have many more days time to accustom herself to such a thing before it became acknowledged, but a warning glance from Mr. Bennet, cast backwards over his shoulder as he offered Lady Catherine his arm, checked the objection that might have risen to her lips.    
  
She understood him very well. It was not for her to be forever arguing with their hostess over the smaller matters of life such as possible inaccuracies of language. If Lady Catherine decreed that she was to be escorted by Mr. Darcy, who offered, unsmiling, his own arm to her, then he was not to be refused. 

She was glad of Anne de Bourgh for the first time. The older girl seemed to gradually be losing some of her reticence around Mr. Bennet, whether by making a deliberate effort or otherwise-- Elizabeth could not say, but she told Elizabeth, very patiently of some of the history of the house as they walked through it to the summer dining room. Lizzy may not have any particular fascination with grand houses but she was relieved not to walk into the dining room, her hand resting on Mr. Darcy’s arm, in silence. 

“The original house was knocked down to rebuild Rosings after the civil war was done with, Miss Elizabeth-- but some of the furnishings from the original house were kept-- such as the coat of arms above the mantle over there. Cousin Darcy would likely be able to tell you the dates better than I, Mrs. Jenkinson would tell you that I have no head for numbers.”  
  
“I do not either,” smiled Elizabeth, recognising the effort Anne was putting forth and seeking to keep the talk going. “Tell me, has Mrs. Jenkinson always been with you? Was she your governess?”  
  
“No-- she came two or three years ago before _her_ I had Miss Baker to guide me in my studies, aside from various masters in London-- of course, but she received an offer of marriage from a gentleman and left us, so then Mama engaged Mrs. Jenkinson.”  
  
“Who, I assume, is rather less likely to marry.”

Anne's lips turned up a little, she was not in the habit of smiling often, although she possessed a very ready laugh when she was in familiar company. “I suppose it is not impossible, though I do not know who she might accept.”

“At Longbourn, we had tutors and Masters whenever we wished to learn from them but later on they would always fall in love with Jane and so had to be turned off-- it has meant that my younger sisters have not had a very  _ steady _ education, I fear. Mama often has lamented that those in service should be so easily led by the heart.”

“But no governess?” enquired Anne, greatly interested by Elizabeth’s life. Mr. Darcy was evidently listening, but having nothing to add, remained silent. He seated Anne first before seeing to Elizabeth. 

“No, I do not entirely know  _ why--”  _ she nodded her thanks to Mr. Darcy, “perhaps any possible candidates were too daunted by the possibility of there being five of us and no dedicated schoolroom.  _ I _ should not have liked to teach Kitty and Lydia their letters whilst attempting to instil a better grasp of numbers into us older girls.”

“They are the youngest Miss Bennets?” 

“Yes, there are five of us in all. Jane is the eldest and as saintly a person as you might ever encounter-- my three younger sisters, Mary who is next to me by just under a twelvemonth, are rather less so.” 

“It will be interesting to meet them.” 

Elizabeth, having reached for her glass, paused with her hand mid-air. 

“Do you-- do you suppose it will be permi--possible?”

Anne regarded at Elizabeth steadily, for a moment she reminded her very much of Mr. Darcy. One could not always quite determine the general thoughts behind that inscrutable gaze. Uncomfortable in company Anne might be, but she was, it transpired, equally as capable of frankness as her mother was. Elizabeth looked for her glass again, surprised to find it had been filled in her moment of inattention. Mr. Darcy had struck up conversation with her father on the other side of him.   
  
“Permitted. I do not think Mama wishes for you to be unhappy and completely cut off from those who raised you, Miss Elizabeth-- there is paper and ink aplenty at Rosings. It is only if you reject us in favour of them that I anticipate resistance on her part. There could be nothing more calculated to make her-- _ us-- _ react strongly than that.” 

Whatever Lady Catherine had written in her letter, it had the desired effect. The next afternoon, the Earl of Matlock and his son, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam rode through the gated entrance to Rosings Park and were greeted by Mr. Darcy, who happened to be crossing the courtyard at that moment.

“Uncle,” he called, as the older man dismounted, “it is good that you came. Cousin, well met.”

“I could not very well stay at home, Darcy,” replied Matlock, stripping off his gloves whilst holding his riding crop, “Your aunt practically summoned me and given the  _ subject _ I am not altogether averse to being here. Do you believe this girl is indeed my niece?”   
  
“I did not at first, but I am convinced of it now. Miss Elizabeth is more suspicious of the claim than the rest of us. Even Mr. Bennet, whom she calls ‘Papa’ sees the matter as straightforward.”

“She is  _ resistant _ to the idea?” said the Earl in some surprise, “I had journeyed here quite ready to defend Catherine against being duped by some fortune hunter, but if you think her more honest than that I cannot think it necessary.”

The Colonel looked serious, he was a cheerful man in general but the subject of Sir Lewis de Bourgh and the missing child had caused him great uneasiness since he had first heard of it.    
  
“Give me my orders, Darcy-- Aunt Catherine wrote of a foundling hospital that our Cousin was taken to, shall I go there? I came to be of use if I could be.”   
  
“St Bartholomews--” Darcy nodded, as they turned to walk into the house together, “it is the only lead we have now that I have discovered the parson is dead. I would say that it is unnecessary, the blanket made by Mama and the timings of her disappearance and the Bennet family’s adoption of her are enough for me...but for her-- Miss Elizabeth will not accept or be easy without more proof. I have delayed leaving to follow up the matter but it ought to be seen to.”   
  
“I will ride off this very day, Darcy.”   
  
“After coming so far, Fitzwilliam? It will wait until the morrow, cousin, you are not crossing the Pyrenees now you know, there can be no cause for such haste. I fear that what information can be got will be very little-- it was twenty years ago, after all. No, you must come inside and see my Aunt-- she is more distressed than she would readily admit. Anne too will be glad to see you.”

Catherine greeted her brother with relief. 

“Brother, at last you have come! We were just discussing Elizabeth, she is quite  _ determined _ not to be convinced of our relationship based on her face being so different from ours.”   
  
Elizabeth was stood beside Mr. Bennet and had been looking closely at a miniature of Lady Catherine in her youth. She turned upon hearing Lady Catherine mention her name.    
  
“It is not an obstinacy of my own making, madam-- merely that I cannot see evidence to the contrary. It cannot be denied that Miss de Bourgh would not be easily taken for my sister, nor even is there any familial resemblance between myself and Mr. Darcy.” 

Catherine’s mouth twisted but she did not argue. Matlock wondered if Miss Elizabeth knew how unlike her it was to permit a challenge to go unanswered. Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam had been renowned throughout the ton both for her sharp tongue and inability to let a matter drop. 

“Elizabeth-- and Mr. Bennet, this is my brother, Matlock and his younger son, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

The Earl of Matlock briefly nodded at Mr. Bennet but stared at Elizabeth as she curtseyed, "You have been looking in the wrong place. Doubtless you saw the dark colouring and have expected her to resemble the Fitzwilliam family but of course, she does not--not obviously. Look to Sir Lewis's mother if you wish to find a resemblance, _she_ might have been an insipid, blonde thing but observe the mouth and that clear brow--this lady here is very like her de Bourgh grandmama."  
  
Lady Catherine looked and nodded slowly, then she grimaced. "I suppose I must request Hubert to bring a portrait of her then. There are not any here of her in her youth, Hubert has them. It is a pity, for I had hoped that I had sent him off from Rosings for the last time last year when he had the temerity to view me through a quizzing glass."  
  
Anne de Bourgh quietly stifled a laugh and Lizzy, who had been frowning at the Earl for his lack of respectful greeting to her Papa and then too astonished at his calm declaration that she bore a resemblance to one in the de bourgh family, now looked to Anne and lifted a brow in curiosity.   
  
"Mama deflated him rather well, that is all. He is not a _clever_ man."  
  
"Yes, but who is he?"  
  
Lady Catherine answered for her eldest daughter, "Hubert de Bourgh, the only surviving son of Sir Lewis's younger brother. The late Lady de Bourgh was not on speaking terms with Sir Lewis, and when he inherited Rosings he shipped his mother off to her other son along with most of the paintings he had of her. The only one _here_ is one that was sent to me after your father was buried, she survived him by some eight or nine years and by the time she sat for that portrait, had grown very large. I had it hung in the gallery merely because it would have annoyed him."  
  
Elizabeth bit her lip at her Ladyship so smoothly referring to Sir Lewis as her father and then laughed a little. It was so typical of Lady Catherine to find such a way of ignoring her late husband's wishes. How she must have _hated_ him for what he had done!  
  
Matlock spoke, "well then, you had best send for him Catherine-- from what I remember of her she was a very dull sort of female, we can hope that our Miss Elizabeth has inherited some of _your_ spirit. Never could tolerate mousey women myself."  
  
Mr. Bennet interjected before Elizabeth, "I take it then, sir, that you have settled it in your mind that Elizabeth is indeed your lost niece?"  
  
Matlock nodded, "I cannot see that there need be much doubt, Mr. Bennet-- my sister Anne’s gifts to the girls serve as very convincing proof and I believe that the portrait of Dorothea de Bourgh ought to settle the matter. If Hubert will not oblige us by bringing a painting, I will speak to my friend Lord Granville, Dorothea was his Aunt-- there are bound to be some paintings of her at Granville."  
  
Mr. Bennet nodded at this and looked to Lizzy who had twined her fingers tightly in her lap, a tremble shook her.   
  
"Well, Lizzy? Are you convinced?"  
  
She shook her head, "Not as _yet_ Papa, I would like to see a portrait. It all seems so strange."   
  
"I think, my love, you may discover that only time will convince you utterly. View the portrait with an open mind, when it comes, my dear."  
  
She looked up quickly at his inflexion, "You are going then?"   
  
"Yes, in the morning. I must, you know. I dread to think of the state your Mama will be in... _ah_ forgive me your ladyship, force of long habit--and I am no letter-writer-- Jane will soon return from London and will want me to tell her all in person, I do not doubt."   
  
He saw that she looked stricken at the thought and squeezed her hand, "Lizzy, you must _eventually_ accept what is before you. You have long known that the family of your birth was elsewhere, however much you have been regarded and loved by all of us Longbourn. It is best to ride hard at a stream that must be jumped, without current affections making you feel as though you ought not." He heaved a sigh, "it is proper and right for you to spend time with your family, my little Lizzy. Do so."

Colonel Fitzwilliam came to sit beside Elizabeth and her father, he was a lively conversationalist and asked Lizzy what sort of things she enjoyed. 

“Should you like to go riding? I can show you ground hereabouts that is splendid for a gallop. If you require, as most ladies seem to, an admiring ear to applaud your musical skill on the pianoforte, I will clap heartily at whatsoever you chose to play. Do not fret that you will be bored or lack things to do. I am entirely at your service to settle you into the family-- in fact, it is a mission I shall take upon myself as seriously as though Wellesley had given me orders to do so himself.”

Elizabeth’s spirits rose and she smiled at the colonel. He was not a handsome man but he had a good-humoured countenance. 

“Would the Duke of Wellington approve of such frivolous orders given to one of his men, sir?”

The colonel laughed, “the Duke would consider that all English soldiers should see to the comfort of any pretty female-- he leads by example, you know.”   
  
Mr. Darcy had risen from his seat opposite her some minutes earlier and spoken to the footman outside the door, he waited there as Mr. Bennet spoke. Having been handed something by a maid, he brought it over to his cousin and draped it about her shoulders.    
  
Elizabeth blew her nose with damp eyes and then looked at the shawl with a watery smile. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy, I had not even realised how cold I was feeling."   
  
"You were thinking of other things, Elizabeth, it is no great matter."    
  
She opened her mouth to argue the form of address and then looked about the room. Lady Catherine and Anne were watching her as though they were bracing themselves for another blow-- another rejection. Whatever her doubts, she had no desire to pain them.   
  
Her shoulders drooped and she quietly replied, unable to meet Mr. Darcy’s eyes, "regardless, thank you for your care, cousin. Well, Papa, if you are to leave in the morning I should like to bid you farewell and as such will get myself to bed early." Hastily, she stood and nodded to Lady Catherine and Anne. "I hope you have a good night’s rest, I shall see you in the morning."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it is so late! Life intervened. :) I hope you enjoy it.

She rose with early and sat quietly with her father while he breakfasted. They spoke quietly together, both enjoying the solitude. The morning sun flooded into her ladyship’s summer breakfast room. Elizabeth poured his tea for him and he watched her with simple satisfaction as the plume of steam rose from his cup. 

“I will confess to no little melancholy this morning, Lizzy. Were it not for your mother’s distress when I left her I should delay my departure for another few days. You must write to me, my dear. Lady Catherine has informed me that  _ she _ will write to Longbourn often-- I shall have your Mama reserve the very finest silver platter for de Bourgh epistles to be presented. Doubtless, we can contrive it so that your letters will always be brought in by Hill when there are neighbours nearby to impress.”    
  
“Oh don’t tease, me-- not this morning, Papa. I feel so very low, you know. I  _ ought _ to be happier, oughtn’t I? I was so adamant that there being no likeness between us and thus it was all some mistake-- when the Earl said I was very like Sir Lewis’ Mother, Dorothea, as a girl...I was surprised. I am  _ still _ not sure I can believe any of this.”    
  
“Perhaps belief will come in time and when least expected,” said Mr. Bennet, wisely. “In the meantime, my love-- I have some fatherly advice for you, no, I do not suppose it will become a frequent thing. Permit yourself to address those around you as your family-- Miss de Bourgh would be a sister to you if you would allow it. Jane will write to you soon, you need not fear to lose us but I should take comfort in the knowledge that you are in the midst of those who will care for you very well-- if-- you would permit them to.”   
  
Elizabeth wept freely now and Mr. Bennet passed her his handkerchief and took her hand in his. “Ah now, don’t be cast down, Elizabeth-- think what joy Lydia and Kitty will even now be feeling at the prospect of taking over your vacant room.”   
  
She looked up in frank dismay. Mr. Bennet smiled, although his own eyes were damp. “A poor jest, my dear-- your room remains yours at Longbourn. Your dresses will hang where they always have and your books will remain undisturbed until you say that they should be moved. Now, always assuming my man is not lost again, my luggage should have been loaded and the horses anxious to carry me home. I took my leave of her Ladyship last night and now all that remains is a fond farewell between you and I. Come here, my child.”   
  
She stepped once more into his arms and laid her forehead against his shoulder as she had always done. Mr. Bennet dropped a kiss on her forehead and if a tear slipped down his cheek and onto her hair, there was no one but he to notice it.    
  
Elizabeth stood on the steps of the house watching as the coachmen leapt onto the back of the carriage as the horses strained at their harnesses and pulled her father away.

She was quite blinded by her tears and feeling in desperate need of some comfort. When she turned toward the house she saw the blurred figure of a gentleman who was stood watching her. He approached and laid a large, gentle hand on her shoulder. Lizzy turned herself into him and, clutching at Papa’s handkerchief buried her face in it. His other arm came about her and she found herself stood within the secure circle of comforting arms. He did not hold her too tightly but seemed to realise that he should not release her just yet. He raised his hand to lightly stroke her hair and still said nothing.

Lady Catherine descended the stairs a little later to see her youngest daughter sobbing into her nephew’s shoulder. It was the expression on Darcy’s face that gave her pause-- there was a tenderness in his eyes as he looked down at the young woman in his arms. He looked, for all the world, as though he could stand thus, in a draughty entryway forever-- if she were to be nestled close to him.

Catherine de Bourgh was a shrewd woman and it had served her well on many an occasion. She did not fool herself that Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley had merely cousinly feelings for Elizabeth-- he was, she knew, the best man in all the world, but his reserve of nature meant that he was not at all the sort of man to suddenly feel a familial bond with a girl who had been lost to them for twenty years. He was unfailingly kind to Anne, after all, but had never looked at  _ her _ in such a way as that-- nor had he held ever her in such a scandalously intimate fashion.

Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared on the stair beside her. She, so lost as she had been in observing the two figures by the door, started visibly and frowned in rebuke when he had the effrontery to look amused. He eventually noticed Darcy and Elizabeth and his mouth formed a soundless whistle. He saw but did not  _ see _ , not as she did. Catherine expected no less-- men so rarely noticed what was before them. Had it been Anne on the staircase beside her, her eldest daughter should have observed the pertinent facts of the matter instantly, just as she had. 

She permitted his ignorance to go uncontested when he said in a low voice, “My little cousin Lizzy has taken Mr. Bennet’s departure hard, I see. Just like Darcy, to be a ministering angel to a weeping girl. I suppose all that practise with his sister was bound to be of use. Can’t bear females crying on me, personally-- I should much rather make them laugh. Perhaps I will take her out for a good long march after breakfast, Mr. Bennet told me last night that I must make sure she has her daily exercise.” 

Lady Catherine frowned at him again. “My daughters do not  _ march _ , Fitzwilliam-- I will not have you treating her as one of your officers. If Elizabeth desires to walk out, I shall not prevent her-- provided she is suitably escorted. I will speak to her at breakfast about it.” 

Mr. Darcy had by now seen his cousin and aunt on the stair and was whispering into Elizabeth’s ear, her head shot up and she distanced herself from him, clearly conscious of herself. 

Her Mama sought to ease her discomfort. “Are you ready for breakfast, Elizabeth? Here is Anne. We shall go in now.” 

During the course of breakfast, the colonel exerted himself to amuse Elizabeth. They both seemed quite readily form a friendship between them. Mr. Darcy watched them the pair of them, silent and grave. To his Aunt, he looked to be in the grip of some powerful emotion that quite robbed him of his power of speech. If he was pleased by his cousin’s relative success in making Elizabeth laugh, it was not apparent in his countenance. 

Anne, however, smiled on the pair of them, quite delighted by the lively conversation that they brought to her Mama’s table. They were very quickly on familiar terms with one another, with the Honourable Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam addressing the young lady at his right as his little cousin Lizzy without earning her displeasure. He pressed her to respond in kind. 

“For,” he declared, “if you will not, then I must forever be calling you ‘Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh’ in very formal tones and we shall never be quite comfortable. Can you imagine it? Pass the jam, if you please-- Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh-- and also the marmalade Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh. I see you shake your head at me, but you must see that it will not do. If I am to affectionately call you Lizzy then you must certainly do likewise.”

“I cannot possibly call you Lizzy,  _ cousin Richard _ \-- it would confuse matters considerably. Do you invariably take jam  _ and _ marmalade at breakfast, sir? I had not supposed extravagance would overrule good taste in such a noble family, I am most disappointed.” 

Richard grinned and seeing that she understood his sportive manner, replied in the same tone of mock disapproval that she had used. “Ah well, my dear cousin, given the terrible poverty in which you have been raised I am not at all surprised that you should be so ill acquainted with the ways of  _ good _ society.  _ Why, _ it is considered an absolute necessity in our circles to make a simple roll as expensively laden with conserves as possible--  _ particularly _ if one happens to be breakfasting at a wealthy relative’s estate. You  _ had _ such things as bread, at Longbourn, I suppose?”

Elizabeth pleased by the ridiculous, laughed and then tried to shake her head sadly, “alas, cousin Richard-- only on very rare and special occasions. Anne-- if you are quite done with that jam, would you be so good as to pass it to me before the colonel attempts to empty the pot?”

Anne, quite forgetting that she had been raised with servants do such things-- reached for the delightfully painted pot immediately. She had woken up smiling that morning and hearing her sister and cousin talking together had only widened the smile. Richard had always been the one to smooth the way when there was company. She and Darcy would rather just sit in silence.

The Earl of Matlock entered the breakfast room and sat beside his sister. “I have despatched my man to summon Hubert de Bourgh, Catherine.” He fixed his eye on Elizabeth, who had been laughing with his younger son. “Elizabeth--I spoke with Mr. Bennet last night after you had retired regarding your official status.  _ He _ is as convinced as I am that you are indeed the lost child-- my brother in law’s actions toward you showed a dreadful want of conscience and I condemn him, most heartily, for such wickedness. That much having been said-- to expose the happenings here twenty years ago would cause a scandal which would damage the victims of the case far more than your deceased father. I do not think you would wish society at large to be aware of the sordid details of your... _ disappearance _ ?”

Elizabeth, who before this speech, had felt in a fair way to accepting the situation, shook her head. Lady Catherine was clearly not the only member of the family who favoured forthright speaking. “Sir...of course I should not wish difficulty to come to her ladyship or Anne, or even to those more distantly related to them but-- it may well not be my decision to make. I...accept that you see a likeness between me and Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s mother but I should infinitely prefer it if I could see this portrait and judge the matter for myself before any details be made known.”   
  
The Earl of Matlock regarded Elizabeth. He was not known for his great patience, for all that he was essentially a well-meaning sort of man.    
  
“Tomorrow is Sunday, Elizabeth. It will be necessary for us all to attend church. It would be improper-- besides being unacceptable to  _ me _ , for you to sit anywhere other than the family pew and so these matters must be discussed today so that we are all in agreement upon what must be said. Kent is not so very far from London you know, it only takes one person to write to another of the happenings here before it is all over town. I do not like it but it is an inescapable fact.”

Lady Catherine nodded her agreement, “what my brother says is correct, Elizabeth. Lady Metcalf, who has recently employed Miss Pope should almost certainly hear of it from Miss Pope’s brother. Mr. Pope is a very respectable young man but these things do have a way of getting out.” 

Colonel Fitzwilliam glanced across at Anne-- “Can she not attend as Anne’s friend, Aunt? It would give her what time she may need to see that portrait and it could all be straightened out later.”

“I do not care for deceit of any kind, Richard,” rejoined Lady Catherine in austere tones. Elizabeth is  _ my _ daughter-- for her to be called anything other than that is not to be contemplated. How can I, after finding her after so many years, introduce her to anyone as Miss Bennet when I know full well that she is my own flesh and blood?”

Richard pulled an apologetic face at Elizabeth, who, feeling calmer for having an ally, shook her head slightly, dismissing the need for any apology. 

“Elizabeth need not attend at all-- would that not suitably answer?” suggested Mr. Darcy quietly.

  
“Darcy!” exclaimed her Ladyship, quite astonished that he of all people should say so.   
  
Anne tilted her head to the side in consideration, “it would not be so unreasonable, Mama. Elizabeth  _ has _ had a headache after all-- it is the excuse we gave not to return her to the parsonage. I do not think it would be such a stretch, it is only until Hubert comes. My sister may sit with us next Sunday.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment and reached for the coffee pot. She preferred tea in general but felt the want of something stronger that morning. Anne looked at her anxiously and Lizzy had not the heart to disappoint her. 

“I had hoped for a long walk today, but if your ladyship would permit me a few days grace, I can content myself with walking about within the house instead.” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. 
> 
> a) So sorry for the delay, it was a difficult chapter in some ways and I had to have some forced time away from the internet.   
> b) The sequels to 'Tact' have all been removed, if you want to know where they have gone you can head over to twitter.   
> c) Thank you to you lovely people who emailed me to ask if I was ok. Normal service should resume now I hope. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to all of you still reading. :)

_ Rosings Park _

_ My dear Jane,  _

_ How many things have happened since last I wrote to you! Papa will very likely have told you most of it but you will forgive me my dearest, dearest sister if I will repeat some of what he said. He can relate the facts of the matter to you with no little ease, mayhap he will even mention that I have not been quite happy at the speed with which my life has turned itself on its head. What Papa cannot do is relate to you is how deeply I have felt the powerlessness of my situation.  _ __   
__   
_ It seems very likely that I am the youngest daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, that I have an elder sister-- Anne, that my father was a villain of no small order and that Mr. Darcy, who viewed me with such contempt in Hertfordshire must now reconsider his opinions on account of my exalted birth.  _ __   
_   
_ __ If there is any humour to be found in this whole situation, it is in that. Perhaps, if you here, you would tell me that I have wronged him, that his sudden kindness is not so surprising after all. You may well be right Jane, but it makes me smile to think that he must have found it very lowering to have thought so meanly of his own blood. 

_ I remained at home on Sunday, it being thought to be the best of all options to avoid talk. The Earl of Matlock-- do not tell Mama but she would be dreadfully disappointed at how ordinary a man he is-- seems to think that gossip in Kent works very much the same way it does in Hertfordshire and that I have only to sit in the de Bourgh pew (which cousin Richard assures me is prodigiously uncomfortable) for the news to reach London within a day.  _

_ I have an abundance of cousins to my name now. Anne walked the gallery with me on Sunday afternoon and laid them out before me. She is not an animated woman. I might almost call her shy or timid, were it not for the fact that when she speaks it is with confidence. Perhaps reserved may be a better word to describe her-- she is like Mr. Darcy in that respect, unwilling to speak unless talking will serve some great purpose. How unlike your little sister Lizzy, Jane! I who speak rapidly, gesturing whensoever I cannot immediately find the word I want and who would talk at length on any manner of meaningless nothings. I do believe I like Miss Anne de Bourgh, for all her silence. I believe she has tried to make me as comfortable as she knows how, even going so far as to present me with a charming shawl, merely on account of my having admired the colour of it. I tried to refuse but she looked as though she had stored up every ounce of bravery to offer it and then with great cunning, Anne told me that she had waited her whole life for me, that had Sir Lewis not been so wicked she might have given many such gifts to me. I thanked her, thinking that you would urge me to be gracious and kind. How I wish you that were here, Jane.  _

_ I have digressed as usual. I was about to list for you the exalted personages that claim cousinship with me-- I do not say that I claim it with them but that is by the by. Papa accurately pointed out to me that we cannot choose our cousins. Mr. Collins is proof enough of that.  _

_ Lady Catherine de Bourgh has one surviving brother, the Earl of Matlock, and from that branch of the family there are two sons, the younger son, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam is quite my favourite already. He is not at all handsome though, not in the way that Mr. Darcy is, but he is tall enough to be noticed in a room and very amusing. He has clearly taken pains to set me at my ease, I urge you to love him if only for that. Before he arrived and sat with me, Rosings was quite somber and dull. You know Mr. Darcy already of course, he is the only son of Lady Anne Darcy, who was Lady Catherine’s sister. Lady Anne had a daughter, Georgiana Darcy, much later on-- I understand that there is more than ten years between brother and sister. You will be enormously proud of me, Jane, when you hear what I have next to say. Mr. Darcy is a most devoted and excellent brother to his charge. Are you not very impressed with me, to admit that a man I have quite decided to dislike should have good qualities? I do not acquit him of his cruelty to poor Wickham, but even he said that Mr. Darcy was capable of being agreeable amongst his own set. It was Lady Anne Darcy who fashioned my precious blanket, you know-- she made a similar one for Miss de Bourgh on the occasion of her birth. That same cloth I treasured so carefully throughout my childhood was made by a kindly Aunt. I could wish that I might have met such a lady.  _

_ On the de Bourgh side of the family, there are very few people. Sir Lewis had a younger brother, now deceased, who had a son-- Hubert de Bourgh. He is due to visit Rosings Park with a portrait of Dorothea de Bourgh, Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s late mother. There was a family disagreement between mother and son that I believe quite outdoes Papa’s contempt for the late Mr. Collins. _

_ Charlotte called on me on Monday, she was greatly worried for me. I saw her on my own with Lady Catherine’s permission and tried to assure her that I was well enough but unable to return to the parsonage. I said that I was not at liberty to divulge the reason but that she should likely know very soon. Will you laugh Jane, when I tell you what conclusion she drew from my secrecy? Our dear friend Mrs. Collins has a well-concealed talent for the ridiculous.  _ __   
_   
_ __ She asked me if I had contracted a secret alliance with Mr. Darcy! I disclaimed, of course, but with each denial, she seemed to be more and more certain that she was correct. I wished that I could enlighten her as to the true reason but I had given my word that I should not. 

_ Mr. Hubert de Bourgh is due to arrive at Rosings very soon and with him he will carry the portrait of Dorothea de Bourgh-- to whom the Earl is adamant I resemble. There seems to be some discontentment regarding Mr. de Bourgh’s coming here. Anne has said that he is not a clever man, Mr. Darcy would not be drawn on the matter, not even when I teased him to tell me if Hubert was not very handsome. He looked severe and disapproving of course, but then he usually does.  _

_ Richard, who is a colonel in the 9th foot says that he has not met Hubert since before he was campaigning abroad but he has heard that he is a very loose fish. Mr. Darcy would not explain to me what that meant when I asked him. I would say that he is a disobliging man, Jane, but the vexatious thing is that he is not-- he has walked out into the park with me every day this week-- it being now Thursday Morning. He answers my questions about the history and geography of the place readily enough and even took me into the town when I said that I had not explored it. He told me that I should charge the few small items I purchased to Rosings but did not press the matter when I told him I should rather do without them than do such a thing!  _

Elizabeth frowned pensively, her pen poised in her hand. Somehow she could not quite tell Jane how kind he had been to her of recent. Neither did she write to her sister of the comfort she had found in his arms the same morning that Papa had left. She thought on that more often than she cared to. It embarrassed her in retrospect but how delightful it had been to stand so close to him and feel shielded from all ills for a little while.

It made her feel on edge and more liable to argue with him than ever. When he suggested to her that she should tell a shopkeeper to charge her purchases to Lady Catherine her lips pressed together in a thin line and she prepared to firmly decline. She was surprised when Mr. Darcy laughed before she could respond to him. Her defiant expression quickly turned to question and he answered it, “I beg your pardon, Elizabeth-- I was not amused at your expense. It is merely that I have seen you look at me so  _ many _ times, even in Hertfordshire and it has only now occurred to me how often I have seen such a look from my Aunt.”    
  


Elizabeth sighed and looked down the street of shops. Hunsford boasted a prosperous high street, clean and well kept. She looked at it now with new eyes. On her first visit into town with Mrs. Collins and Maria, she had supposed Lady Catherine to be an interfering landlady, no doubt dictating to her tenants what wares they must offer and even the proper shade to paint their window frames. One or two passers-by recognised Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s nephew and nodded respectfully-- they did not appear to be unhappy or overly cowed. She herself received one or two curious looks. 

“It is all very odd to me, Mr. Darcy,” she said on a sigh, wondering how things had changed so much that she should feel at ease to speak so to him, of all people. “I have lived all my life knowing that my features, my expressions and odd quirks of whimsy cannot be seen in those whom I call kin and now within the space of a fortnight I am told otherwise and also that I am to be presented with a portrait bearing my likeness.”   
  
He offered his arm to her, his sympathy readily apparent and they walked on down the street together. He was a man, she thought, whose actions were far more palatable than his conversation. She had never liked him better than these last few days when he had quietly tried to see to her comfort, it almost made her forget what ill she knew of him from Mr. Wickham's account and in his own off-putting behaviour in Hertfordshire. It was yet another matter that confused her, she pushed the thought away. There were more pressing matters requiring clarification.   
  
“I wish you would tell me, Mr. Darcy, what sort of a man Mr. de Bourgh is.”   
  
“You might ask your mother, Elizabeth,” he answered her. 

“Lady Catherine? So I might, sir-- but she is not currently walking with me and I must have some conversation, you know.”   
  
“I do not know him well-- we do not move in the same circles. He resides mostly in town and runs in a set that I do not care for.”   
  
“I see,” said Elizabeth-- wondering if Mr. de Bourgh merely did not live up to Mr. Darcy’s standards for propriety or if there was a weightier reason that he looked stern. 

“Will you then tell me about Sir Lewis, sir? I do not like to ask Anne or her ladyship-- I think it pains them and it cannot mean so much to you, can it?”   
  
Mr. Darcy had been looking at the sign that swung above the entrance to the chandler's shop but he turned to look down at her and she was startled at the anger she saw in his expression. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his brow, which darkened his eyes still further. It made him look saturnine. She instinctively went to remove her hand from his arm, feeling alarmed but he prevented her by resting his other hand upon hers. 

He quickly controlled himself, “Can it not? I may not despise his memory so openly, as your mother and sister do but I cannot think of him without abhorrence. More so now that I begin to appreciate what it was he tried to rob the world of.”   
  
Elizabeth frowned but did not pretend to misunderstand him.    
  
“I suppose I had not thought of it-- that he might have succeeded, I mean. It is a chilling thought. Do you think that the only reason was that I was not a male heir? Lady Catherine indicated so-- but it seems…oh, I do not know, insufficient?”   
  
“Is there ever a sufficient reason for a man to act as he did?”   
  
“No, no-- I do not mean to suggest that there could be a motivation that would excuse him-- it is more that it seems so paltry. Can he have been quite sane, do you think?”   
  
“I have seen no indication in either of his daughters to suggest that he was mad, Elizabeth.”

“I suppose there is that. It would have likely been passed on, would it not? However surprising it is to hear you compare my expression to her ladyship’s it would be rather more unsettling to think myself like Sir Lewis de Bourgh.”   
  
Mr. Darcy spoke firmly then, “There is nothing in you that is like him. He was a scoundrel. My mother, who was occasionally plain-speaking, said after his death that the world was better for him being gone. My father only donned black and attended the funeral for Lady Catherine-- she was concerned lest gossip should harm Anne.”    
  
“Do you think Sir Lewis suspected Lady Catherine of playing him false?” asked Lizzy daringly. She enjoyed the scandalised glance he gave her, wondering if he would refuse to answer. It seemed to be his prefered method of avoiding unpleasant or shocking topics-- to merely pretend that they had not been raised.

“ _ If _ he suspected so he had no cause to impune your mother’s honour so, Elizabeth. You must have seen that she is a woman of principle.”   


“I was considering Sir Lewis, Mr. Darcy, rather than her ladyship, you must not think I was trying to besmirch her character by the thought. I have been trying to make it all out, it seemed reasonable to start from the beginning of it all and try to raise what questions might arise. There is method in my madness.”   
  
Mr. Darcy led her further down the street away from the shops. 

“Are you tired yet? We will walk this way-- there is a pleasant view further along that you might enjoy. It will not delay our return to Rosings overly much and I know how you prefer to be outdoors. Do you much care for Hamlet, Elizabeth? I had rather  _ assumed _ you might prefer the comedies.”

  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

They had been expecting Hubert de Bourgh to arrive in the morning, soon after his luggage had come but by two o'clock in the afternoon, he had still not arrived. Anne sought Elizabeth out in the library once she had seen the servants carrying his clothes into the house.

“Mountains of it, Elizabeth,” said Anne, “I saw the footmen unloading three large trunks and a portmanteau-- I hope he will not stay long.”   
  
“If he has so many clothes, he must expect to stay for some weeks--surely!” replied Elizabeth, surprised, “your hope would seem to be a futile one.”

“No-o, for you see--” she was interrupted by Richard who was evidently in a lively mood that morning, he kissed both her cheeks before turning to Elizabeth and doing the same.   
  
“Good morning to you, cousins! Are you coming on a march with me this morning, Lizzy? I promise I shan’t try to push you into the mill pond again. Anne-- you ought to come one day you know, the weather has been perfectly fine for the season.”   
  


Elizabeth laughed, “I am certain I heard Her Ladyship rebuke you for speaking of our walks in such terms, Richard. I do not know why you provoke her so. I shall be ready to walk out with you in less than ten minutes, Anne-- do you mean to come? We should be glad of your company. If you do come we might band together and push Richard into the pond, I am sure that he has done  _ something _ to deserve it.”   
  
Anne laughed as she always did when Richard and Elizabeth affected to argue but shook her head. “No, you know I shall not, Elizabeth-- I would not wish to slow you down. I watched you walk out through the garden gate to the meadow yesterday and I almost thought you looked to be running. My eyesight is not the sharpest however, so I daresay it was a swift walk.”

Lizzy held up her hands, “Oh, how I am wronged, Richard! Do you hear, cousin? I should not have dared to suppose that  _ Anne _ would accuse me of such unladylike conduct, would you?”

Richard bowed, “I would not dare to do so, Lizzy and it was I that you beat so soundly in the footrace. All that dashing around the mountains of Hertfordshire, I suppose.”   
  
“Hertfordshire is largely flat, Richard,” Mr. Darcy informed him in superior tones. “If Elizabeth outpaced you it because you have been indulging too long at our Aunt’s table and have been too long indoors. Perhaps I should walk out with Elizabeth this morning, lest you find it too taxing.”   
  
“Oh aye, rob me of my marching companions would you, Darcy? Elizabeth-- take the fellow out to the mill pond, my love, if you  _ do _ go with him.”    
  
Elizabeth shook her head, and seeing Mr. Darcy’s black look at his cousin, thought that the mill pond ought to be avoided by all. “I have half a mind to remain close to the house and walk about the rose garden with Anne. Mr. de Bourgh’s luggage has arrived so he cannot be so very far behind it. I am curious to see him.”   
  
Anne took her hand and pressed it, “Oh, do not stay nearby on my account, Elizabeth-- I will wander out with you before luncheon. Ten to one Hubert will not have arrived in time to eat with us anyway. He is never on time, it maddens Mama.” Anne turned to Mr. Darcy, “you ought not walk out with my sister this morning, cousin-- Mama asked me to mention to you that she wanted you to look over a lease for her.”   
  
If Lady Catherine had any expectation of her husband’s nephew being unpunctual, she made no mention of it when they all gathered together before luncheon. Elizabeth was confused to see that that lady gave orders that a place should be laid for him for their midday meal only to curl her lip in displeasure when it remained empty and Hubert was not there. 

“She does it deliberately, Lizzy,” muttered Richard-- “she dislikes him heartily and so enjoys setting him up to incur her wrath.”

“I wish someone would tell me plainly what is so objectionable about the man,” she complained, “I dislike secrets.” 

She spent some time in the afternoon with Lady Catherine as they waited for the arrival of the portrait. Of all the people in the house, Elizabeth felt the most awkward around the woman she could not call Mother. Her Mama to her was a fluttering, pretty creature-- all nerves and scoldings and silliness, not this handsome woman whose piercing eyes looked at her with such expectation. Elizabeth did not know what it was that Lady Catherine desired of her, what it was that she required in exchange for her kindness. 

It was not that Elizabeth did not find Lady Catherine an interesting study-- she was willing to admit that her initial reading of her character had been too simple. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was not so steeped in her own consequence that she must needs interfere with the everyday life of those under her care, it was more that if she saw something being managed badly she could not check the impulse to improve a matter. Mr. Collins, she revealed, had been quite a dreadfully haphazard man when he had been granted the living at Hunsford.

“I recommended that he seek a wife once I realised he could not possibly live alone,” said she, “he does very well in a garden but inside a house Mr. Collins has little notion of order.”   
  
“Did you direct him to seek a bride from Hertfordshire, ma’am?” asked Elizabeth, having some idea that Mr. Collins had few original thoughts in his head.

“He came to me asking if it would be inappropriate to heal the breach between the Bennet and Collins family, his father was a brutish sort of man, not that the son would ever say so directly but one learns to establish the truth from what is  _ not _ said sometimes-- it was not until he died that Mr. Collins felt he could write or visit Longbourn.”

“I see,” said Elizabeth.” She wondered if she ought to mention that Lady Catherine might have met her as Mr. Collins wife had her inclination been toward prudence. 

“It seemed a reasonable recommendation that he should seek a bride there, given the entailment and the Bennets having no sons. Neither Anne nor you need suffer any concern in terms of inheritance of course.” 

Lady Catherine took a small key and unlocked a little drawer in the desk beside which she sat.

“We must speak of practical things,” she said briskly, “Darcy mentioned that you may not have the funds to buy what you want from the town and that you chose not to charge anything to Rosings.”   
  
Elizabeth lifted her chin, “there was nothing I required from a shop that could not wait until everything is settled. I have sufficient paper to write to my sisters and you have been good enough to frank my letters for me. My gloves are not yet worn thin enough to let in the cold and the weather remains mild. I do not think it appropriate to charge anything to Rosings-- shopkeepers talk, Lady Catherine.”   
  
The older lady nodded, acknowledging the point, “You will nevertheless oblige me by accepting this,” she withdrew from the drawer a red net purse and offered it to Elizabeth, who made no move to take it from her. “Elizabeth,” she said impatiently, “you remain at Rosings at my request-- I am aware that you are not pleased to be here. I would not have any guest in my house feel the embarrassment of insufficient funds, it is  _ unnecessary _ .”

“Is there anything I might do to assist you then, ma’am?” Elizabeth asked, reluctantly reaching forward for the purse. She did not like to take it but it was not quite comfortable to ask Papa for money in a letter. It seemed wrong that she should live in Lady Catherine’s house and receive money for her needs as though she were in truth a daughter. It made her feel wicked, to take anything from this woman when she could barely accept that Lady Catherine might have birthed her. “I am certain that there must be something I can do-- Mr. de Bourgh's room is likely to be in readiness already, I know-- you do not like to delay such things but I could arrange flowers well enough or work in a still room if you have one?”   
  
Lady Catherine regarded her, whatever it was she wanted from Elizabeth, it was evidently not help. “Why should you wish to, Elizabeth?” she asked, directly.    
  
“Oh! I do not know-- I like to be useful, I suppose. I feel...guilty, to be taking a pocket allowance from you, in truth, I wish I could know what is expected of me.” 

"My dear," said the older lady after some moments thought, "I have, almost from the very beginning, learnt to expect very little from you. When you were born, I thought it sufficient that you should live and tried to be content with that. When I was told that you had died, I thought that I should be able to manage if I could just find out where you had been buried, so that I could visit and lay flowers-- just because as your mother I wanted some opportunity to care for you, even if it was too late for any of that. Having found you, Elizabeth, against all expectation...it is enough that you are here--that I can ensure your well-being by whatever means I may. You will learn, one day, that motherhood is a cruel thing in its way, the love of a mother gives everything and expects nothing." 

Elizabeth, who had been doing very well for not weeping each day, felt her eyes sting once more. She felt wretched-- it seemed worse somehow, to be inadvertently wounding a woman who had suffered so much. She did not wish to injure Lady Catherine’s feelings but neither could she cast herself into her arms and call her ‘Mama’. She had never seen Anne go to Lady Catherine for comfort, she simply wasn’t a warm sort of woman in that way-- not like Mama was at Longbourn. Elizabeth’s earliest memories were of Mrs. Bennet’s lap being rarely empty, there was always one or other of her daughters sat with her--little arms wound about her neck affectionately. It was a world away from the woman before her, who sat up straight in her chair and looked at her in such a way that Elizabeth could hardly draw breath.

“I...I beg your pardon, ma’am, I had not intended...that is...I did not mean. Forgive me. Do you know if Mr. Darcy has gone out for his ride yet? I should like to see him before he goes if he has not.”   
  
“Darcy? He was playing billiards with Richard when I last saw him but Elizabeth... you need not go you know.”   
  
“Oh,” said Elizabeth, agitated, “I most especially wanted to speak to him, you see-- I will not be very long.”   
  
She quit the room rapidly and swiftly made her way through the house to the billiards room-- she heard the knocking sound of the wooden balls as they collided before she entered. 

Richard saw her first and gave a surprised exclamation, Darcy, who had been lining up his shot looked up quickly and upon seeing her face laid down his cue.    
  
He straightened up and opened his arms to her, relieved, she crossed the room to him and buried her face in his waistcoat. The silk felt smooth on her forehead. Mr. Darcy, a quelling glance to Richard, bent his head and spoke softly.    
  
“What is amiss, Elizabeth?” She sniffed and felt in her pocket for her handkerchief.    
  
“I feel so wretched! Lady Catherine gave me a coin purse and I felt guilty for taking it, even though it would not be right to ask Papa for funds-- so I asked her if I might do anything for her and I did not mean to offend her but I think it hurt her. I have no notion how to make things right.”   


“And so you came to me,” he said.

“Yes--” she answered, feeling awkward under his scrutiny, “I do not know why.”   
  
“Do you not?”   
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer. It is long and I did not necessarily intend for all of this to happen in one chapter BUT it needed doing eventually so why not all at once. Think of it as ripping off a plaster, yes? Better to get it done quickly.
> 
> I'm going to go through all the lovely comments from last chapter now, as a way to calm the butterflies that have taken up residence in my stomach.

Elizabeth half suspected him of teasing her, but could not quite make out in what way. “No-- perhaps I thought you might be able to tell me how to mend things with your aunt.” It was not necessary to tell him that she had wanted that same feeling of comfort that he had offered her the morning of Papa’s departure. 

Mr. Darcy thought of his aunt and believed that the young woman in his arms was being willfully blind.“You might start by referring to her as your mother rather than any other form of honorific that you can think of.” 

She drew back enough to frown at him, offended that he should press her on the subject and quite willing to argue with him on the subject of his presumption. “Mr. Darcy, I do not think that you...”

Her frown deepened when he interrupted her. “You manage to be familiar enough with Richard and Anne, Elizabeth.” He did not mention her stubborn insistence on calling him ‘Mr. Darcy’ or ‘sir’ or when pressed, ‘cousin.’ If she would not admit the reason she had sought him out she certainly would not acknowledge why she would not address him as ‘Fitzwilliam’. It was difficult to make out when she was being deliberately coy-- mayhap she was waiting for him to lead the way in that conversation.

“It is a different case. ‘Mama’ has always been Mrs. Bennet, surely you can see that.” 

Evidently Mr. Darcy was unable to see anything of the sort and his tone was less patient than usual when he answered her. “Yet now being in possession of evidence that your mother is here, why do you avoid the obvious, accurate, name for her? You have known all your life that you are not a Bennet-- it does not follow that you should be so resolved against acknowledging that Mrs. Bennet is not your mother.” 

There was something of his old contempt in the way he said ‘Bennet’ and Elizabeth did not like it. “Because it does not seem possible-- still!-- that I can be a de Bourgh!” she cried, slipping from the circle of his arms and distancing herself from him. It had evidently been a futile wish that he should just comfort her in silence as he had when Papa had left, no, he must needs spoil things by talking.

She stopped short, even as she backed away-- realising that however decided she sounded in rejecting the notion that she might be Lady Catherine’s daughter, it was not quite true any longer. She may not be convinced that she was a de Bourgh but she had been feeling for some time, perhaps without even realising it, that she could be. The realisation unsettled her further and she set her mouth, hardly caring if it made her look mulish. Richard, having laid down his cue, shook his head at her in disappointment but left the room without attempting to reason with her. Clearly Darcy was the man for the job-- let him quarrel with Lizzy and then he would return to cajole her into good spirits again once she had seen reason.

"Why are you so very adamant that you are not a de Bourgh? I cannot make it out, this reluctance.” Had his temper not been pricked by the feigned ignorance of her own feelings he might have left it there but his annoyance caused him to add, “It is not as though you would be much lowered in the eyes of society!"

Her eyes flashed in anger at his sarcasm. She had been a fool to think he improved upon closer acquaintance. The only difference between November and now was that he saw her as worthy of greater civility. "But what of my own eyes, sir? If all I have known of the de Bourgh family and their illustrious relations is pride and self-conceit? Is that not a lowering from the family that has taught me the very best of principles, that of kindness?"

"And this is your opinion of us? Your mother, your birth mother, madam, who suffered the loss of bringing you into the world, then the loss of your childhood must now suffer the loss of any close relationship with you due to of your constant rejection of her..and you dare to call this kindness? You will excuse me if I have doubts regarding the quality of your upbringing if this is how you defend your cruelty." He stopped himself when he saw her flinch. He had not meant to hurt her-- he had wanted to rationally show her that his aunt and Anne were so often made unhappy by her coolness. “Forgive me, I do not wish to offend you-- whatever faults you may have, they are not ones of character-- I ought not to have said so.” He tried to speak gently, as he would to Georgiana when she came to him for guidance. “It is only small moments of thoughtlessness that I speak of-- I know that there is no malice in you. There is nothing that may not be easily amended with time at Rosings and in good society.”

His attempt to be conciliatory fell short."I am not merely the rank of my birth, Mr. Darcy! My character is not solely a copy of my blood. I am the result of the upbringing by a family and people, good people, that you have disdained yourself. Do not think that all of Meryton did not perceive your contempt for us. If I have resisted Lady Catherine's attempts at making me a de Bourgh it is because I do not at all wish to be related to you!"

Mr. Darcy stepped forward and towered over her. He was a tall man and she resented every inch he had that meant she had to look up to glare. She did not back away when he neared her but raised her chin in defiance...how dare he try to intimidate her so!

"I do not wish to be related to you either, Madam, but I will be thankful that you are not nearer than cousin."

Elizabeth, greatly insulted, drew breath to berate his ungentlemanly manners and found herself stopped by the strong arm about her waist and the mouth that swiftly descended on hers.

Darcy drew back quickly and released her, his own breathing unsteady. He glanced down at her shocked expression and looked grim. Elizabeth looked so very astonished that Mr. Darcy realised, in a flash of belated insight that she had not been toying with him after all. His anger left him and was replaced by bitter disappointment. 

They stared at each other for a long moment in silence until Richard’s quick step was heard in the passage and he reentered the billiards room. “Lizzy, Darcy-- Hubert de Bourgh has arrived, we are are to assemble in the hall. It looks as though her ladyship is intending to intimidate the fellow into good behaviour for I believe every available footman at Rosings line up.”

Elizabeth hardly knew where to look so great was her mortification-- if Richard had entered the room only seconds earlier he would have seen...perhaps he did not need to have witnessed what had occurred in order to know. Was it visible? She lifted her fingertip to her lips that tingled and dropped them again when she saw Richard and Darcy looking at her.

“Very well-- I am coming, thank you, Richard.” Her voice shook and Darcy lifted a hand as though he might lay it on her shoulder. Evidently, he changed his mind quickly, for it dropped back to his side again.

“Oh-- you’re most welcome Lizzy, not that I usually would willingly offer myself up as messenger for just anyone. My father is an earl, you know-- we don’t, in general, demean ourselves but you are of course sufficiently grand enough a person to be worthy of my most gentlemanly efforts-- why what is it, Lizzy,” he broke off alarmed, “I was jesting you know.”

Elizabeth shook her head and tried to laugh, “Oh, I know Richard, you must not mind me. I am a little tired I think. Come, you must stand beside me and make me laugh lest my cousin should frighten me into silence.”

“I am at your service, of course,” answered the colonel gallantly, and offered his arm to her but not without a quizzical look to Darcy over his shoulder. Perhaps he ought not to have left it up to Darcy to correct her, she seemed to have taken it hard, whatever he had said. 

The three were met by Lady Catherine and Anne, already present in the hall. The two women looked askance at Elizabeth’s white face but said nothing. There were, after all, a dozen servants standing ready. 

Lizzy left Richards arm and, deliberately not looking in Mr. Darcy’s direction, went to stand on Lady Catherine’s other side.

“Have you a headache, Elizabeth?” asked the older woman, carefully. Elizabeth wondered how it was that she should have not noticed that Lady Catherine had been so very restrained-- almost undemanding, in their conversations together. 

It would have been the easiest, and yet the hardest thing to reply, ‘No, Mama,’ or ‘Yes, Mama’ but Elizabeth did not. Instead, she shook her head.

‘No ma’am-- I am feeling a little light-headed, perhaps I am nervous.”

Lady Catherine looked as though the thought of anybody feeling nervous were a thing most foreign to her but Anne spoke softly from her other side. 

“What is it that should make you feel so, Elizabeth?”

“I want to see this portrait and yet I do not want to see it. I am afraid that everything will change-- I think that I have been gradually becoming accustomed to the notion that I may belong here.” It cost Elizabeth something to admit it. Thinking to diffuse some of her tension she tried to jest, "perhaps I am concerned that she will be quite dreadfully plain and my vanity will be wounded."

“The portrait makes no difference to me, Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine, “It is for your sake that Hubert has been sent for as it is you who needs convincing of your place in this family.”

The door opened and in stepped Hubert de Bourgh, who was carrying a large, unwieldy object that had been wrapped in hessian. 

He bowed elegantly and doffed his hat before handing it to the man beside him. The man, who was not one of Lady Catherine’s footmen, took also the caped greatcoat from his master and also the red gloves that were tossed to him. He was forgotten as soon Mr. de Bourgh removed and discarded the second glove and the servant melted away.

“Lady Catherine! I am quite...honoured, dear Aunt, that you should have sent for me--I have been so very curious to meet my long lost little cousin since I received the letter that err...commanded my attendance. Behold me, I am quite at your service. Anne, how lovely you are as ever and…” Hubert groped for his quizzing glass and was about to hold it aloft in order to inspect Elizabeth but dropped it when her ladyship’s glare turned glacial, “ah yes, you must be the long...lost...cousin. I am...charmed.”

Elizabeth decided that she did not like Hubert de Bourgh. She did not like his red coat, neither did she care for the drawling, sarcasm that he dared to direct at her mother. She did not like his unpleasantly calculating blue eyes and she certainly, above all, did not care for the assessing nature of his gaze as he directed it at her. Those watery blue eyes rested for a moment too long on her mouth before flicking back up to her eyes. 

Richard and Mr. Darcy stepped forward, the latter giving the briefest of bows. 

“De Bourgh,” acknowledged Richard, “glad you could come so soon-- Miss Elizabeth has been wanting to see this portrait for two days-- shall I relieve you of it? It looks heavy-- here--where do you want it displayed, your ladyship?”

Clearly de Bourgh’s disrespectful tone had not escaped Richard. Elizabeth began to appreciate the difference between Richards gentle teasing about his aunt and Hubert’s barely civil derision. 

“In the Indian salon, colonel. I have given instructions fo an easel to be placed there in readiness. Come along then, Hubert-- you will wish to change your clothes, I do not doubt. You will be far more comfortable in country attire I am sure.” 

Elizabeth smiled, Lady Catherine matched her late husband’s nephew tone for tone. 

“I shall beg your indulgence, your ladyship, to remain as I am for the present, it is a momentous occasion after all and I should like to welcome my newest cousin to the  
family fold myself-- I am eager to see what you make of the portrait, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth moved to Anne’s side, if she had an instinctive dislike of Hubert, she was almost certain he felt the same for her. Anne linked her arm with hers, she did not speak but she clearly was trying to be of comfort and support. It reminded her of the times Jane had silently come to her side when she had felt the need of it, a beautiful, silent shadow to remind her that she was not alone. Elizabeth smiled at Anne and pressed her hand.

A hand rested on Lizzy’s shoulder for a moment before being removed. “Come along then” ordered Lady Catherine, “the portrait will not view itself.”

By the time they all moved into the Indian salon, Richard and Darcy had removed the first covering of hessian from the portrait. The room was so named because the wallpaper was bright and vibrant, the furniture evocative of all things eastern and unusual-- there was a tiger rug spread out before the fire and various ivory carvings mounted on the walls. Elizabeth did not much care for the room-- preferring the gentler shades that were currently fashionable-- today she ignored the too bright red of the wallpaper and focussed on the two pairs of hands that were undoing the string on the portrait of Dorothea de Bourgh.

Mr. Darcy had very nice hands, she thought, telling herself that if anyone asked, she would say that she liked the ring he wore on his smallest finger and had been admiring it. 

The final covering removed, Richard lifted the portrait up to rest on the easel that stood ready to receive it. 

Elizabeth stared, doubted and was silent. 

The young woman depicted so skilfully in oils had blonde hair and brows so fair as to render them almost invisible. They were not a bit like her own dark eyebrows. The lady’s lashes too were so light and fine that Lizzy stepped nearer to look at them. No, they were not a bit like hers, apart perhaps in shape and length.

There the differences between them ended. The earl of Matlock had been quite correct, it would seem. For the first time in her whole life, Elizabeth looked into the face of an ancestor and saw herself therein. 

Her own mouth, that same uneven lift on the left side that was more pronounced when she smiled, the clear forehead that so suited the current fashion of dressing curls on either side to frame the face-- Dorothea was not so fortunate as she, her hair was swept back and piled high on her head and as a result the forehead was a little too pronounced. 

Elizabeth stood back again, aware that at least one set of eyes in the room rested on her rather than the portrait of her grandmother.

‘Oh!’ she gasped softly, raising her hand to her face, the same shaped face as Dorothea de Bourgh had. ‘Oh,’ she whispered again, ‘my grandmother.’


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out how I am actually on time for once! I look forward to your comments and would like to thank you all for the consistent way you so kindly encourage. I know that I can't expect to please everyone ALL the time, that would be impossible, but I really do like to make people happy and as fragile as it may make me sound, nice comments spur me on more than anything. 
> 
> So yes, sometimes I cheer myself up by posting because I know the JAFF readers here a by and large a really lovely group and will be nice. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I know I say it often but I really mean it. 
> 
> _Shut UP Jeannie, you are gushing._

Lizzy stared at the portrait for some time in silence, her thoughts swirling in her mind before she recollected that she was under observation. Hubert de Bourgh leant against the wall, watching her as though she were an object of interest. He happened to be the first in the room that she laid eyes on when she looked away from her grandmother’s painting. Their eyes met for a brief moment and Elizabeth felt a distinct chill, as though this stranger had seen too much of her in what ought to have been a private moment. 

She blinked and looked away from him to Lady Catherine. 

“Memories grow hazy and indistinct over time-- I spent very little time in my late mother-in-law's company when she was alive and paid no attention to that portrait when I first arrived at Rosings as a bride. It is a pity, for had I more familiarity I should have seen the resemblance-- it is quite evident, is it not, Anne?-- and should have ensured that you saw it sooner, Elizabeth.”

Anne stepped forward, “Perhaps my sister saw it when she needed to see it, Mama.”

The colonel, who had been frowning at Darcy and trying to gain his attention, attention that had been unwaveringly fixed on Lizzy since the portrait was unveiled, seemed rather struck by Anne’s words. 

“Aye! I think that a very profound statement, Anne-- you are quite right, for I do not think Lizzy should have admitted any likeness at all if she were not willing to! You would deny that you saw your own reflection in the mirror if you set your mind to it not being very like, wouldn’t you, my dear?” He looked at his Aunt, whose hands were clasped together in stillness, as ever in absolute control of herself. “Can’t think where you might have got it from.” 

Lizzy was wringing her handkerchief. “Might I have leave to retire to my room, Lady Catherine? I wish to write my letters-- I have had a letter from Jane only this morning and I have not yet had opportunity to read it.”

Hubert strolled forward and offered his arm, “I should be enchanted to escort my cousin up-- I am most anxious to become properly acquainted.”

Lady Catherine spared one glance at Hubert and then returned her attention to her daughter. “You will come down for dinner, Elizabeth?”

“Oh, certainly, ma’am! Anne informed me that you ordered lamb to be on the menu, I am excessively fond of the dish and will likely be very hungry by the time dinner is served. Do forgive me! I shall see you all later but I must...I really must write to Jane.” She was in danger of babbling and she knew it. 

“De Bourgh.” Hubert, who had taken Elizabeth’s hand in a too firm, too cold grip made ready to tuck it into his elbow, stopped and looked inquiringly at Mr. Darcy.

“Sir?”

“Elizabeth is quite able to find her own way up in her own house. The colonel and I would be glad of a brief word with you in private before you go up yourself.”

Hubert withdrew his quizzing glass and toyed with it. “Oh, but I simply must change out of these travelling clothes, Mr. Darcy,” he responded, with the faintest touch of challenge in his soft drawl. His half smile was not a pleasant expression. 

Mr. Darcy remained polite yet inexorable, “and yet you have delayed doing so once already-- Fitzwilliam and I will not take long.”

Elizabeth withdrew her hand stepped away from Hubert, glad of the excuse Mr. Darcy had provided for her to escape in solitude.

“I shall leave you to speak to the gentlemen, Mr. De Bourgh-- thank you for the offer of escort but Mr. Darcy is quite right, I do not suppose there to be any need for escort in this house, sir.” With that, she turned and quickly whisked herself out from the room.

Upon entering her room and closing the door behind her, Elizabeth leant for a moment against the wood, her eyes closed. 

When she opened them she left the door and began to pace. There was a conveniently sized space in her bedchamber that she made good use of, such dimensions proved to be useful-- her room that she had shared with Jane at Longbourn was a trifle too small for walking about in deep thought. One might just as soon spin about in circles rather than make the attempt. 

Elizabeth laughed. It was a feeble, reedy thing-- not a bit like her usual laughter but the mere sound of mirth made her feel a little freer for having let it out, even if the cause had been her own silly thoughts.

“Jane, Jane!” she exclaimed to the empty room, If ever she were in need of her sister’s gentle and wise counsel it was now. She made her way to the writing desk that was pleasantly situated in front of the window and picking up the still sealed letter that had arrived only that morning.

_My dearest Lizzy,_

_How worried I have been for you, my dear sister, that you should have been faced with so much confusion in such a short space of time! And that you should have been all alone too, with not one of us to remain with you. Papa has a reasonable excuse, I do not deny it, but I cannot be easy that he left you so soon before all had been settled._

_He was vastly shocked, Lizzy, to bear the brunt of my displeasure in the matter-- I told him that he must surely have known that I, that all of us at Longbourn would have taken care of Mama if he had wished to remain with you._

_Perhaps I am selfish, Elizabeth. Papa asked me if I would have the fortitude to permit you to form loving bonds with your Mama and Sister if I were by to see it, and furthermore, would my being there with you prevent you from turning to those of your blood?_

_I wish you might have seen him, for he looked much moved when he reminded me that you had never been ours to keep-- that you had ever been a joy and a pleasure but that there had been a mother and a sister who most earnestly desired your return._

_Mama, who has only this week left her room, begs that I should send you all of her love in my letter and Mary, Kitty and Lydia do likewise. They will write to you very soon, they say-- Lydia declares that she will do so just as soon as there is some interesting news to report to you of our friends._

_I related to Mama all that you desired me to in your last letter, and I will say that it cheered her considerably to hear of all the new people you are meeting, that you claim as kin now. She was, in particular, very much interested in your meeting the Earl of Matlock and has spent some time in wondering if you will have your own season in London._

_Lady Lucas called on us on Tuesday morning, she wished most particularly to enquire after you and wondered if we had heard that you were in very ill health-- so much so that you had not returned to the parsonage! We disassembled as much as we could, however difficult we may find it to conceal truth from our dear neighbours and I do believe her curiosity has been temporarily delayed._

_Papa informs me that the Earl of Matlock has written to him from London, stating that he has the intention of visiting St Bartholomews to see if there is anything else of any interest to you, his neice, there._

_I have been trying, Lizzy, to rejoice that you have found your family but I must own to finding it very odd that you should now have an entire set of relations that I do not know. I have been so used to us being related to all the same people that it is taking some adjusting to. I know that it must be far far more difficult for you, however._

_I must relate my news from London, you had such a great many questions regarding the matter in your last letter, and any fear that you should forget me was soothed away with your concern for me. How foolish I was, to even think that such an affectionate heart as yours should be inconstant-- forgive me, dearest, the darkest thoughts of my fears. It is only that I love you too well, my constant friend, my first sister._

Elizabeth was obliged to pause in her reading to dab at her eyes for a moment when she read, with some relief, that Jane had worried for her. 

“Oh, Jane! Such a watering pot as your Lizzy has become! I do not believe I have ever wept so much in the whole course of my life as I have these past few weeks!” 

The rest of the letter, containing the details of Jane’s stay in London, her well-concealed unhappiness in not having seen Mr. Bingley and her return home to Longbourn were devoured by Elizabeth and made her feel at once very homesick and yet much better. The scenes that were described by Jane made her smile for the familiarity of them and her heartache that she may never again be part of a quarrel between Lydia and Kitty. It seemed that Papa was of a mind to permit their younger sister to visit Brighton as Mrs. Forster's particular friend. Lizzy frowned-- knowing Lydia, it did not seem wise but Mrs. Bennet, as ever seemed unable to see any risk in her youngest daughter having whatsoever she wanted and Papa, as ever, desired a peaceful life. 

Elizabeth frowned. Lady Catherine would be unlikely to permit one of her daughters to go so far at such a young age, she thought. However forceful a personality the woman who birthed her was, she was not unwise. 

Mr. Darcy would very likely not approve if he knew of it. 

Elizabeth touched her lips again. There was another subject that required thought. It was quite, quite evident that Mr. Darcy had kissed her because she had bested him in an argument. He was, being a prideful sort of man, unable to allow her the last word and so had kissed her in order to fluster her.

The worst of it was that it had worked. It was an odious stratagem and he deserved that she should be quite cross with him, just when she had been starting to feel comfortable around him too. He had been a safe haven to her in her mind, without her even realising that he had become so. She valued their walks and conversations, even when he had been disagreeable at least he had the intelligence to spar with her. 

He had looked so very cold after their kiss, though! She did not know what he was about, to make her feel so and then have such an unhappy expression. Was she odious to him? Did he not like kissing her? 

Elizabeth was sure that she did not care a whit if he had disliked it. It was his own fault, after all, it was not she who had seized her and brought his mouth to hers, for all her arm had wound about his neck of its own volition. That was not her fault either. Any woman would have done so in an attempt to keep well balanced. 

A knock sounded at the door and Lizzy called out admittance. 

It was Anne who entered the room, she had never done so before, never sought her out in such a way. She looked a little worried, as though she feared that she should be unwelcome.

“Elizabeth? You do not mind that I have come, I hope-- I wanted to talk to you and there is likely to be little opportunity with so many gentlemen in the house.”

“Oh! No, I do not mind. You are welcome, Anne. I have just finished my letter from Jane and that is what I most wanted-- she has a talent for restoring me to good humour.”

Anne looked at the floor, uncomfortable. “I know that you are very attached to Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth smiled, “It is impossible not to appreciate the virtues of Jane and quite futile to remain unattached to her.” She sighed and sat down heavily in a settee that had been placed by a second large window in her room. “Come and sit down Anne! You must not stand while I sit. There-- now we may be easy. Tell me, had things been different should this have been my room all my life, do you think? Or should I have grown up in a nursery somewhere else in the house?”

Anne clasped her hands tightly together. “I suppose you should have grown up in the nursery-- with me. It would have been less lonely. I will take you there if you want to see it.”

Lizzy shook her head, lost in the thought of what might have been. “No...no I do not think I will see it yet-- one day I would like you to take me there and we will imagine how it all might have been different if I had...if I had remained here.” 

“It is a pleasant imagining.”

Elizabeth looked out the window to the green woods in the far distance, “Yes, I suppose it is, although if I am to be realistic, which I am not often good at, I must own that I do not know how idyllic childhood we might have had if Sir Lewis had truly wished me dead.”

“You mean, I suppose, that he might have tried again? We should have never been free of the fear of it.” Anne’s mouth was set and it was clear that she felt the keenly the wickedness of her father.

“Was he a good father to you, Anne? Were you fond of him?”

“Certainly not! Even before I had learnt of the depths of his depravity-- I did not see him often. I saw Mama every evening before I was sent to bed, my nurse-- our nurse-- brought me down and she was always there waiting for me but he...he never was.”

“I am sorry for it, I had hoped that his objection to me did not extend to you. What a misfortune to be born a girl! Mama-- Mrs. Bennet, I mean, so often lamented that there were no sons--Longbourn is entailed and the son that died when I was born would have inherited. Had I been born a boy, I gather that Sir Lewis would not have attempted to get rid of me. It occurs to me, I do not know when he died-- were you very young?”

“It was very sudden-- I only remember Mama telling me that he was gone and that we should be the better for it, I would not have been much above seven. It has been Mama and I ever since. I did not realise, not truly, until I was a little older that you had not died-- that there was a possibility that you were alive. Mama never lost hope, there was a look she had whenever she met a girl who was the right age…”

“Yes-- I saw it,” said Elizabeth, gravely, remembering the intensity of Lady Catherine's expression on that first meeting.

“And now you are home.”


	18. Chapter 18

Elizabeth de Bourgh was avoiding Mr. Darcy. That afternoon, Lady Catherine was occupied with her steward, presumably giving him very detailed instructions about how he ought to spend his day and Anne, who had been feeling unwell that morning was lying down in her room as per her mother’s advice. Lizzy _would_ have requested that Richard take her out for a long walk but Lady Catherine had firmly told her that she must not go out that morning, for it had been raining heavily overnight and the ground was very wet. Matters between them were such that Elizabeth did not argue, particularly given the obvious puddles on the paths that she had seen from her window. She reluctantly set about finding herself some other occupation.  
  
She made her way to the library first, but hearing Mr. Darcy’s distinctive timbre, speaking quietly to Richard, she assumed that the gentlemen of the house were in conference there and she did not wish for a book so badly that she would interrupt. 

Mr. Darcy was a mystery to her, he had sought her out the morning after Hubert had arrived and actually _apologised_ to her for having kissed her. Elizabeth thought it rude of him and her cheeks had burned in mingled mortification and disappointment. Clearly, whatever fit of pique had caused him to pull her into his arms in the first place was a _temporary_ madness and was unlikely to be repeated. 

She had no need to ask him why he was sorry, evidently, he had found no pleasure in the occasion once it had fulfilled its purpose in silencing her-- nor did _he_ need to know how disquieting she had found the experience. Elizabeth certainly would not beg him to use her so shabbily again and, as cooly as she was able, she assured him that he need not concern himself with any further apologies.

“For I had almost forgotten it myself, cousin-- what with Mr. de Bourgh bringing the portrait of my grandmother, you know. It has been a trying few weeks, you need not give the matter another thought.”  
  
She smiled at him to give credence to the lie and succeeded so well that his dark brows drew together in momentary annoyance. It pleased her that her seeming unconcern had ruffled him and his surprise enabled her to change the subject. 

“I wish that you would let me meet my cousin, Miss Darcy, sir-- Anne was telling me of her last night and I am curious to see her. Lady Catherine says that she has already written to the Earl-- he is in London at present I believe and will place the relevant announcement in the paper. If all is to be made official there can be no harm in my meeting your sister now, can there?” 

Mr. Darcy accepted the change, although he looked to be almost offended that she should give his kisses so little importance in her memory. Elizabeth rather thought that it should serve him well if she were able to dismiss _him_ so easily as he had _her_. 

“I will write to her, Elizabeth--” he said slowly, his mind elsewhere, “she will be eager to meet you also.”

She thought on their conversation as she made her way to the blue drawing-room, thinking that if she were to be denied her first two choices for occupation, she ought to do something useful at least. If her accomplishments were sparse in a Miss Bennet of Longbourn, they were altogether lacking in Elizabeth de Bourgh. Lady Catherine had excused Anne’s not playing on the grounds of ill health. She herself enjoyed music immensely but disliked actually playing. She told Elizabeth that Lady Anne had been much in demand for her great talent, both on the harp and pianoforte and thus whenever music was required it was Lady Anne Fitzwilliam that was often called upon. 

Lizzy thought of Mary and her desperation to be thought accomplished. “Did you mind, ma’am-- that my aunt should be so celebrated for her music?”  
  
Lady Catherine had smiled at the question, not least because of the way it had been phrased. Elizabeth had, objectively speaking, thought her a handsome woman but that particular smile was a rare thing. It lightened her whole face and Elizabeth believed that there was a momentary flash of herself in that smile. 

“To be sister to Anne was to love her-- if Darcy is the best of men, Elizabeth, Anne was certainly the best of all women. One could not be jealous of her, it was impossible.”  
  
Elizabeth nodded in recognition. “It is the same with Jane, your ladyship-- she is the epitome of loveliness and almost all young men lose their heads over her but for all my vanity it never troubled me.”

  
Upon entering the blue drawing-room, Lizzy shook her head at the strangeness of it. Longbourn boasted one instrument of acceptable quality and it was fortunate that only Mary seemed to possess any love for music, for with five daughters in the house they should have been forever squabbling over whose turn it was to play if it had been otherwise.  
  
Rosings Park, however, had three instruments-- a very fine Broadwood Grand in the Indian salon, an equally lovely but older pianoforte in the blue drawing-room and even in the housekeeper’s room there was a smaller instrument that had no longer been needed when her ladyship had purchased the Broadwood Grand. 

Seating herself, Elizabeth pressed a few keys. Her ear for pitch was good and she was satisfied, if unsurprised, that the tune of the pianoforte was good. Lady Catherine did not let such small details as the regular tuning of an unplayed instrument escape her. Lizzy entertained herself for perhaps half an hour, playing various melodies from memory before she realised that she was not alone in the room.  
  
Hubert de Bourgh was seated quite comfortably in a chair that he had clearly drawn up behind her back. Elizabeth started visibly, having twisted on the stool to look at the clock and seeing him there, too close for comfort and was unsettled that he had entered the room unnoticed. 

“Mr. de Bourgh! I had not heard you come in. Have you been in here for very long? You were not here when I entered, I am sure of it.” 

“Ah, no, I came in as you were playing, only to see a vision of loveliness before me. I did not like to disturb you.”  
  
The glib compliment made her feel uneasy. “It is a pity you did not announce yourself, sir. I am sadly out of practice and would have spared your ears the torture.”  
  
“Not at all, cousin-- I was quite charmed, I assure you.” His words were charming enough but he managed to sound quite bored when saying them. She frowned, she did not quite know what he was about. 

“Nevertheless,” she said, her unease making her sound a little stern, “you ought to have told me of your presence. I do not like to be observed so closely.”  
  
“All young ladies like to be observed, cousin-- it is what makes them feel worthwhile as a female, is it not? To draw admiring looks and attention is what the fairer sex is all about, after all.”

Elizabeth rose from her seat and intending to put a little distance between them, took the music that lay on top of the piano and affected to look through it. It was all rather stately and terribly difficult. Perhaps Lady Catherine would consent to some newer pieces being brought from London. Richard would probably oblige-- if she asked him. 

“If that were the case, Mr. de Bourgh-- it is a wonder that blind men ever marry,” she responded after a moments consideration.

Some of the boredom left him and was replaced by irritation. “I have never heard of such a thing. I do not believe it would happen.”  
  
How changeable he was, Elizabeth thought, almost as though his civility were a cloak to be dropped at will. “Your not having knowledge of a matter does not expressly forbid its existence, Mr. de Bourgh.”

He left his chair and crossed to the pianoforte where she stood with the music. A vase, elegantly arranged with roses stood on the top of the instrument-- he lifted a white finger to examine the petals of one of the blooms.

“I should think, cousin, that you would be rather more polite to the man who brought evidence of your bloodline to Rosings, I suppose one cannot expect so much, however.”

“Is it _uncivil_ to disagree with a ridiculous opinion? How glad I am that I was never taught so!” 

“I had hoped that you would prove to be a more reasonable girl,” complained Hubert, sounding peeved. “I gather that there is going to be an announcement placed in the newspaper within a day or so. It quite cuts me out, you know.” 

Elizabeth stared at him, “Of what can you be talking? It cannot be Rosings, Anne is to inherit-- Lady Catherine was most clear on that.”  
  
He swung his quizzing glass to and fro, “Anne’s health is not the strongest, it is a well-known thing.”

Anger stirred in Elizabeth. “I do not believe I care for your inference, Mr. de Bourgh.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, “but can it be that you are fond of each other, so soon? I had not thought it possible. How distressing! It is not _wise_ you know, cousin.”

“My affections are of no concern to you, sir-- therefore you need not suffer distress over them. Miss de Bourgh’s health is none of your affair either.” 

He responded crossly, “It is very much my affair given that I have long had a reasonable expectation of succeeding her.”

“How sorry I am for you, sir,” said Elizabeth, quite sickened by how he spoke, “pray excuse me, I find I have urgent occupations that await me anywhere that is not in your company.”

She made to walk past him, her chin held high and her contempt apparent. He seized her arm and prevented her from going any further. Elizabeth glared at him.  
  
“How dare you put your hand on me! Let go of me _at once_.”  
  
Hubert did not obey. “I had not intended to do things this way, but you seem to be every bit as difficult as your mother. Perhaps another announcement will be in order soon. Mayhap I can _persuade_ you to see me in a rather better light.” 

Elizabeth attempted to wrench her arm away but he held her fast, even tightening his grip on her a little. 

“Thank you for the compliment-- I hope to prove more difficult yet.” She panted in her effort to free herself. “No, you will _not_ kiss me-- I think you a worthless toad and if you do not let me go this instant I shall scream.”  
  
Hubert laughed and Elizabeth wondered if he were quite mad. “I think you are teasing me, if you were going to scream you would have done it already would you not? I am rather more acquainted with women than you think, cousin-- you see, I know how your minds work.”

  



	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I couldn't leave it _there_. 
> 
> If you haven't read the other chapter that was posted today, go back and do that first, take a moment to properly direct your loathing...and then come back and read this. 
> 
> ;)

The Colonel and Mr. Darcy had adjourned to the library but they were not _doing_ a great deal, to be sure. Any business matters pertaining to the running of Rosings required Aunt Catherine who was shut up with her steward at present. Anne had been unwell that morning and the heavy rain outside had prevented them from going out for exercise. The two gentlemen had each selected a book and were passing the occasional remark to each other regarding the contents thereof. 

Darcy found it difficult to concentrate on his tome, his mind kept returning to the uncomfortable conversation he’d had with Elizabeth that morning after breakfast. He had expected her to angry with him, insulted even, that he had taken such a liberty-- particularly given that it was readily apparent by her shock that she had not felt for him as he had for her. Surprise had been clearly writ on her lovely face, there was no getting away from it. How had he missed her indifference to him? He had thought that she had been encouraging him these last few days-- and why else should she have come directly to him, to  _ his _ arms when she had been upset? It made little sense.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Did she view him as merely a cousin? A safe, harmless fellow to turn to in her distress? Was it  _ worse _ than that-- had she thought of him as Georgiana did, in a  _ brotherly _ light? The thought made him feel ill. He heard the sound of the pianoforte in the room next door and restrained himself from going to find her. It could be no one else, not playing a delightfully light melody that he had heard her play in Hertfordshire-- when he had first, despite himself, felt the pull of her.

It made him feel quite wretched when he had apologised to her, that she had been so ready to forgive him and so untroubled by it all. She had not felt so cooly collected when she had returned his kisses in the billiards room-- no, she had wound her arm about his neck and pulled him closer to her! He pondered the matter, unable to reconcile the facts of it. He wondered if she had been telling the truth when she had said she barely remembered it-- he ought to have followed his instinct and reminded her then and there, even if it  _ was _ just outside the breakfast room of his Aunts house where anyone could come upon them.

  
Some three-quarters of an hour into their time in the library, Darcy heard the unmistakable sound of china being broken and the angry shouting of Hubert de Bourgh. Not much time elapsed before rapid steps could be heard outside of the door and when it was opened Elizabeth peeped around it. Seeing only her military cousin, her anxious look subsided a little and she said, “Ah! Cousin Fitzwilliam, I wonder if I might wrest you away from your book. I fear that I have need of a man to defend my honour.”   
  
The colonel, a little slower than Mr. Darcy to put two and two together, gaped at her for a moment, even as Mr. Darcy was crisply closing his book and laying it aside. That same gentleman arose and with a face like thunder, made his way to the door.    
  
“Come along, Fitzwilliam,” he ordered, in clipped tones. He drew Elizabeth a little way into the library. “Are you hurt?” If she was, Hubert’s life was in considerable danger.   
  
She, blushing slightly, shook her head.    
  
“More irritated than frightened, Mr. Darcy.”   
  
He accepted the truth of this with a nod.    
  
“Go upstairs and find your mother. Fitzwilliam and I will deal with de Bourgh. I assume he is in the drawing-room.”   
  
“Yes, he is but-- do you not wish to know what I have to accuse him of?” asked Elizabeth, frowning.    
  
Colonel Fitzwilliam had gathered his wits by now, “it doesn't matter, Lizzy. He was warned not to annoy you and if you have found it necessary to throw china at him, he hasn’t heeded the warning properly. He shan’t come near you again, my dear.”   
  
“I didn’t throw it. I smashed it directly over his head, cousin. Mr. Darcy, what do you intend to  _ do _ with him? I shouldn’t like...that is...I don’t want…”   
  
Her eldest cousin looked down at her, his mouth was set in a straight line as he listened to her and understood what it was she was trying to say. Darcy led her out from the room and into the hallway, she willingly allowed him to guide her. Her trust in him was plain.   
  
“Nothing permanent, Elizabeth. Go and find your mother.” 

Elizabeth did so and lightly skipped up the stairs. Mr. Darcy watched her until she was out of sight and when he turned back to Fitzwilliam he saw that he was being watched with amusement.    
  
“Pretty girl, our little cousin, don’t you think?” teased Fitzwilliam.   
  
“I am willing to soundly thrash you as well as Hubert,” replied Darcy, earnestly.   
  
“Eh? Right ho, I’ll say no more. Are we merely beating him to a pulp or will it be necessary to send for a leech?”   
  
“I should not wish to upset our Aunt, Richard.”   
  
“Her Ladyship? She thinks he’s as slimy a worm as Lizzy does and you know it.”   
  
“Richard,” replied Darcy, with great patience, “It would upset our Aunt that Elizabeth had been upset and it would likewise upset Elizabeth if she thought her mother’s peace of mind had been ruffled because of her.”   
  
“Eh?” said Richard again.    
  
“Never mind,” said Darcy, and pushed open the door of the drawing-room.    
  
Hubert was sat, cradling his head in his hands on the chaise long. He looked up, his too pale blue eyes flicking between the two men.    
  
“Look at what the vicious harpy did to me! She brought a vase down on my head.”   
  
Mr. Darcy moved forward and swiftly, in one smooth movement, raised Mr. de Bourgh to standing by his grip on his elaborately tied neckcloth. A rivulet of blood trickled down the younger man’s face from his scalp. Elizabeth had defended herself quite adequately but, Darcy thought, it ought not to have been necessary for her to do so.   
  
“You were warned when you arrived, Hubert, that Miss Elizabeth was not to be plagued by your unwanted attention. You have not heeded the warning and so must learn that unpleasant consequences come to those who ignore me.”   
  
Mr. Darcy did not bellow, neither did he raise his voice. He spoke clearly, even softly but punctuated his sentence with a slow, deliberate twist to the neckcloth in his hand. Hubert was not a clever man but was sensible enough to be afraid.    
  
He choked and Darcy released him enough for him to draw breath. “Only wanted a little kiss, Darcy--how was  _ I _ to know she wasn’t teasing me when she demurred?”    
  
There was a good deal of strength in Mr. Darcy’s hands, as Hubert discovered when they both fastened about his neck. He clawed at them, trying to loosen the grip.    
  
“Don’t kill him, Darcy!” said Fitzwilliam, who had a good view of his cousin's face. “Best to take the wretched creature outside and teach him some manners. I’ll do it if you’d rather not.”   
  


  
Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh was stationed at the window that afforded a good view of the front of the house, Lady Catherine, having observed that her daughter was disgruntled, had demanded an explanation and, having received it, departed the sitting room in some high dudgeon to assist her nephews. Anne, who had emerged from her room but ten minutes before, walked over to Lizzy and they watched together as Hubert was dragged from the house by two men.    
  
Elizabeth frowned at the strength of the blows being dealt him but the frown deepened when Hubert flailed at Darcy and caught him on the chin. Anne stood quietly by for a moment.    
  
“You are not hurt, sister?”    
  
“No,” replied Lizzy, “I was angry, that is all. He thought that I was  _ flirting _ with him, Anne. I must be out of practice with flirtation, for I do not remember that calling a man a ‘worthless toad’ ever did anything other than cool their ardour before.”    
  
Anne nodded, her face set, and Elizabeth sighed, “I do hope Darcy was sincere when he said that they would not do anything permanent to him. I do not think it is a good time for servants to be talking-- it would be bound to spread abroad.”    
  
Anne smirked at that, “Darcy is always sincere, Elizabeth.” The smirk became a smile when Lizzy giggled. It was a triumph for Anne, each time she managed to amuse her younger sister. Somehow, she felt as if the years apart were shortened every time she provoked Elizabeth to laughter.    
  
They watched, with some satisfaction as their sincere cousin, with the aid of the colonel lifted the hapless Hubert from the ground. Lady Catherine had by now caught up with the group and was looking on.   
  
“Into the pond with him then, cousin.” murmured both of the ladies in unison and nodded in approval when Hubert was tossed in.    
  
Lizzy, realising that they had both spoken as one, tore her eyes from the spectacle of a dripping wet Hubert and looked at Anne.   
  
Her sister.    
  
Anne glanced away from the window, feeling Elizabeth’s gaze on her and raised an eyebrow in question. There was something in that look, that quirk of mannerism that Elizabeth knew very well.    
  
“You  _ are _ my sister,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, “you are  _ indeed.. _ .we must be...I mean-- how can it be otherwise?”   
  
Anne regarded her gravely and laid a gentle little hand on her back.   
  
“ _ Yes _ . I  _ must _ be. Oh, Elizabeth, how much and yet how little it has taken to convince you!”   
  
Elizabeth leaned in her head and laid it on her sister’s shoulder. “I know, I am a blind fool--you need not say it.”   
  
A gentle kiss was dropped on her hair. Anne answered, “but I rather think I should  _ like _ to say it, oh my foolish little sister.”   
  
Lady Catherine, re-entering her private sitting room some time later found her daughters sat side by side with an arm about each others waist. Anne’s eyes were closed and Elizabeth read from a book. There was, looking on, a clear harmony between them. 

She unobtrusively took a seat in the corner and watched them with great satisfaction, if she had to reach for her handkerchief for a moment or two at the sight of them, well, there was no one else there to see. The greatest desire of her heart was realised before her and she felt, for the first time in twenty years, that she could truly be happy. Catherine’s quiet contentment lasted only as long as she did not listen to what Elizabeth was entertaining Anne with and even then, it took her several moments to register it.    
  
“Elizabeth! What  _ are _ you reading from?”   
  
Elizabeth looked up from her book, not having observed her that her Ladyship had returned to the room. 

“Tristram Shandy, Ma’am.”   
  
“You cannot have found such a book in  _ my _ library!”   
  
“Oh...no Mama. It belongs to Richard-- he rather thought I might enjoy it.”

It had slipped out so naturally that Elizabeth scarcely registered that it had done so. Lady Catherine swallowed and reached once more for her handkerchief. Dabbing at her wet eyes, she nodded briskly.    
  
“Right.  _ Well _ . Very well then. Continue.”


	20. Chapter 20

_Dear Lizzy,_ _  
_ _  
_ _This will not be a long letter for you know how much I dislike writing, it is of all things the most tiresome exercise-- I cannot see how you and Jane can spend so long in one position at a table in writing such lengthy letters. I am very glad for you that you will be so rich now, even if I am sorry that you will not live with us at Longbourn anymore-- Mary says that you should have left anyway as soon as you were married but that might not have been for many years to come? I do not say you would have been destined to be an old maid, for though you are not so tall as I, you are quite pretty enough-- a dowry will help, I should think. I do think you are quite the luckiest thing, Lizzy, for if I had turned out to be the niece of an earl I should have no difficulty in being married to the most handsome man in any room._ _  
_   
_Your favourite, Mr. Wickham, who was to marry Mary King-- it must have been for her fortune for how else could he bear to marry such a plain thing?-- he is now quite safe Lizzy, for her Uncle came to Meryton when she wrote to him of her engagement and took her away. Poor Wickham seemed quite cast down when he had heard that she had left without a syllable to say farewell. I do hope she ends an old maid in spite of her ten thousand pounds._

_Kitty made me laugh, for she seemed quite relieved that such a man should be unattached, I told her that it would make very little difference to her at all, seeing as the regiment is to leave Meryton for Brighton for the summer and she will remain at Longbourn. Jane told me that was not kind when Kitty burst into tears and fled from the room-- she is sorely jealous of me, Lizzy, that I should have been asked to go to Brighton as Mrs. Forsters most particular friend. It is very difficult not to giggle at her, for she looks so very red and furious whenever Mama and I make preparations._ _  
_   
_That is what I most particularly wished to speak to you of. I want to take your ballgown to Brighton with me for there will be balls and parties every night and Papa thinks that I can manage very well with only the money for five new dresses. It is too bad of him for it means that I must borrow from my sisters and Kitty says she will not share anything, I would not want Mary’s dresses and Mama will not let me take anything from Jane, even though she willingly offered me her blue velvet pelisse. Mama says that I must ask you first before I take anything from your room. She is being very firm about it and scolded me most dreadfully when I said that Lady Catherine would very likely buy you all sorts of fine gowns now. I do not see how it can make any difference to you if I wear your dress, I will be obliged to let it down at the hem and do something with the bodice of course but it is not as though you are wearing it, is it?_

_Do write to me soon, Lizzy-- you are now a letter in my debt and I want to know most particularly before I go to Brighton if I may have the dress. I also want to know if Mr. Collins is not very awkward around you now given how he proposed to you and has now found out that you are Lady Catherine’s daughter. I should laugh in his face, Lizzy, or be every bit as pompously offended as he was after you rejected him._

_Lydia._

Elizabeth was almost surprised that Lydia had not asked her for any money, given that her youngest sister did not ordinarily permit such things as good manners deter her from getting what she wanted. The day being fine, she walked out with Anne to the walled garden and wandered its pathways slowly with her. Lizzy took her letter with her and read it as they walked. 

“What is amiss, Elizabeth?” asked Anne, plucking a stem of lavender from a bed and raising it to her nose.   
  
Elizabeth sighed, “It is occasionally very difficult to remember that Lydia is merely fifteen-- I do not think there is anything in her head besides looking well and snaring a husband. She wants my yellow ballgown, the one I wore to Netherfield-- it is not _that_ which troubles me, for all I know that I shall never get it back if she takes it. She is to go to Brighton, the Colonel’s wife-- who is, I am afraid, a young and not particularly sensible woman has asked Lydia to go as her companion.”   
  
“Is it not a good opportunity for a young woman to travel? Fifteen is young, I agree but if she is staying in the colonel’s own family there can be no great mischief can there?”   
  
It was a sensible view of things on the face of it. Elizabeth sighed again before she replied, “If there is mischief to be found, you may depend upon it that Lydia will find it, she is a very _lively_ girl-- and looks mature for her age but is still not fully grown in some ways. If I were at home, at Longbourn, rather, I should try to persuade Papa not to allow it, for all that Lydia would threaten to never speak to me again.”   
  
“ _Is_ he persuadable?” asked Anne, curious about Elizabeth’s relationship with Mr. Bennet.   
  
Lizzy laughed, her troubled mood leaving her for a moment, “not in the least! He will choose whichever path that will give him an easy life-- if one wishes to convince Papa of a thing, one must be willing to raise the subject at each and every opportunity for a week or more. It is only when he realises that it is more troublesome to remain steadfast that there is any possibility of succeeding. Unfortunately, he will more likely than not ignore any letters from me if I attempt such a thing through the post.”   
  
“What is it that you suppose will befall Miss Lydia?” Anne asked, a small crease between her brows.   
  
“I do not know...her letter has made me uneasy, that is all. I do not have any gift for premonition so I am very likely troubling my head over nothing. I worry about all my sisters-- Jane in particular, she is still very low in spirits since November, I had hoped by now that there should either be some resolution or some improvement. My being parted from her does not improve matters, I fear.”   
  
Mr. Darcy at that moment entered the garden through the door that led to the parkland. Whereas all was flat and even in the garden, Elizabeth knew that beyond that green gate, lay a grassy hill that climbed up to a birch wood. Mr. Darcy had evidently returned from a walk for a large dog was close by his side-- eyes on it’s master and tongue hanging out.

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth greeted him, remaining steady to her purpose in showing him that their kiss did not trouble her in the least, “do come and explain to my sister that Lydia, although she looks fully grown is still very young and ought not be allowed to go to Brighton with the regiment!”

Mr. Darcy approached them, the dog following him after sniffing about the lavender beds in search of something of greater interest than plants. “Your knowledge of Miss Lydia must be the greater, Elizabeth--I am sure that Anne will not contest your opinion of people whom she has yet to meet.”  
  
“Elizabeth is teasing, cousin-- she does like to put words into my mouth,” Anne smiled, untroubled by it. 

Lizzy laughed and affectionately took her arm as they wandered on along the path, “how quickly you have the measure of me, Anne! You must not mind me, me if I _do_ tease you-- I am so used to having a great many females by me that it would seem strange to me to suddenly become serious all the time.”   
  
Mr. Darcy, an odd look on his face, nodded, “you must be as you are.” 

“And so I shall ever be, Mr. Darcy! I will take great care to never allow my character to improve at all, no, not _even_ if Mama carries through her threat that I must have a music master come to Rosings.”   
  
“Has she said that she will do so? I had not heard it,” answered he, in a little surprise.   
  
“Oh, she only suggested it last evening, you had already retired and Mama was not the most pleased with my bungling when I sat at the instrument.”   
  
“Mama and I think you play well, Elizabeth,” Anne interjected, “it is only that she wishes to be of use and give you anything you might want-- do you not like the thought?”   
  
Elizabeth relented and ran her hand over the smooth head of the dog, he had left off from his hunt for rabbits and pushed his long nose up under her hand, “very well, I have misrepresented the matter, sir. Perhaps I am afraid that any such master will be an elderly martinet and he will be so very disappointed at _my_ being so old and untalented,” she turned a carefully innocent face to Anne, “perhaps Lady Catherine will be so good as to engage a young, handsome musician?”   
  
Anne, laughing a little, shook her head, “I am sure that she will do whatever you ask her to, Lizzy-- but if I were you I should not put it quite like that.”   
  
“No, of course not! Very well then, I will take a great many lessons and practice assiduously. You will wish to make for yourself a comfortable sitting room at the other end of the house, Anne-- or drive out in your phaeton whenever I make known my intention to practice. If I apply myself I may stand a hope of being half as good as you say Miss Darcy is and very nearly as capable as Miss Bingley and I hope you will be very proud of me.”

“Naturally, it will be a matter of great boasting if there is one lady at Rosings who plays. When Georgiana comes she is almost immediately ordered to the pianoforte by Mama but I do not think she enjoys performing, for all that she is exceptional. I have not heard Miss Bingley.”  
  
“Oh, Miss Bingley is accomplished, even I will admit it, and I do not like to praise other young ladies too much, particularly when they surpass me. We had the pleasure of hearing her play often at Netherfield, did we not, Mr. Darcy? Jane was ill and desired me with her, so naturally, I stayed in the same house.”   
  
Mr. Darcy affirmed this with a nod.   
  
“Do you suppose that Mr. Bingley is likely to return to Netherfield soon, sir? If he does not intend to be there often, it would be better for the neighbourhood if he were to give up the lease. We do not like to see a house standing empty.”   
  
He began to look uncomfortable,“ I am not aware of Bingley’s plans regarding the lease. Chaucer! You will leave Miss de Bourgh alone, she does not wish to throw a stick for you, sir.”   
  
“On the contrary, Mr. Darcy, Miss de Bourgh would very much like to throw a stick for any number of great poets...but not, I think, in Mama’s lavender garden. You will have to excuse me, Chaucer, until a day when we may go farther afield. Have you a Homer or a Virgil in your kennils, cousin? Or does your patriotism confine you to our English writers?”

Mr. Darcy laughed and answered, “You are more accurate than you know, Elizabeth-- I have a pointer named Spencer, he is too old to travel with me.”  
  
Anne leaned closer to her sister, “ask him what Georgiana did, Lizzy.”

Curious, Elizabeth did so and was pleased to see him smile again, his affection for his younger sister was very evident and a pleasant thing to see. It made him younger somehow and less stately, when he was speaking of Pemberley and Miss Darcy.   
  
“I will tell you, but you must not mention it to her when you two meet-- she is most anxious that you should think well of her and none of my assurances that you will think her everything that is refined and charming seem to allay her concerns.”   
  
“You may depend upon my not mentioning it.”   
  
“It is no great secret, you must understand but rather I should not wish her to feel embarrassment for an event that took place when she was very young.”

“Your brotherly feelings do you credit, Mr. Darcy. I am sure that there are any number of things in my girlhood that I should not wish spread abroad now that I am a woman. It is fortunate, in a way that Anne and Jane have not yet had occasion to speak together-- for Jane would rattle off any number of delightful stories about me with only the thought of how fondly she feels for the incidents and no notion of how embarrassed I should be.”  
  
Darcy cast a glance to Anne, whose smile had fallen a little and her face was blank. “Georgiana decided one afternoon, after a litter of pups had been born, that she did not think I had much talent for choosing appropriate names for my own animals and presented me with a list of suggestions. She was but seven years old and a very sweet child, she was most cast down when I, who had previously been more ready to oblige her if I could, informed her that on no account could I countenance walking out with any dog named ‘Petal, Daisy or Flounce.’”   
  
Lizzy smiled, trying to picture it. “What a pity it is that I promised I should not say anything of it, I should have liked to present her with a lap dog for her naming-- my Aunt Gardiner, in London, had a brown and white bitch named ‘Flurry.’ Here is Richard come to meet us, he is sadly late for we should have turned to go indoors soon, should we not?” She smiled a greeting as the Colonel approached. “I thought you should not finish your letters in time to join us, Richard.” 

“Ah, well you know Lizzy, I am not near so diligent a fellow as Darcy here, who will insist upon answering a note just as soon as he receives it. I delayed writing to my brother for far too long and he is exceptionally curious about you, my love-- I had to describe you in as much detail as I could, which is why I was so long. Are we to go about the paths again? Chaucer is not yet worn out, is he Darcy?”   
  
“In great detail, Richard?” asked Elizabeth, in dismay, “surely you have not done so-- I think I must insist upon your showing me that letter so that I might know in what light you have painted me!”   
  
Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned and offered her his arm, the path did not comfortably fit four and so Darcy and Anne walked a little behind them. 

Anne glanced at Darcy as she put her hand on his arm, “jealousy becomes you not at all, cousin.”

His eyes were still fixed on Elizabeth’s back and he did not turn to look at Anne, at first. “No more than it becomes you, Anne. I should tread carefully there, if I were you.”  
  
Her mouth pressed into a thin line, “If I am jealous, which I do not admit, I am sure I should have due cause-- you do not.”   
  
“Your feelings toward Miss Bennet-- be they just or otherwise, will do nothing but make Elizabeth very unhappy should she become aware of them.”   
  
He spoke quietly, as they made their way along the carefully maintained paths toward the house, for they could hear an odd word or two of Elizabeth and Richard’s own conversation. Chaucer, once or twice, attempted to push his way in between the Colonel and his cousin as Darcy looked on approvingly. Darcy fancied that Elizabeth made mention of Netherfield again and turned his attention to the lady on his arm.   
  
Anne nodded, “I do not wish that, naturally, but I can hardly be expected to have any interest in a Miss Bennet of Longbourn-- what is she to me, other than the female who has stood sister to _my_ sister for so many years?”

“Elizabeth loves her very dearly, _that_ I am not mistaken in, even if I misjudged other matters regarding her feelings in Hertfordshire-- she is able to love you both, I do not doubt, just as there is room in her heart for Georgiana too...but to speak ill advisedly of Jane Bennet is to--”   
  
“Mr. Darcy!” 

Elizabeth had stopped in her walk and turned to face him, whatever she and the Colonel had been discussing, it had stirred her ire in a way that he had not seen since she had hurled that apple at him with Lady Catherine looking on. He paused.   
  
Richard looked both alarmed and apologetic at the same time, leaving him standing awkwardly beside Lizzy with his hands fallen by his side.   
  
“Is this indeed true? Did you _intentionally_ separate Mr. Bingley from my sister and can it _be_ that you have _dared_ to congratulate yourself for having done so?”   
  


  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21

“Elizabeth,” he began, and then stopped, unsure of what it was he could actually say to her. There was no evading the truth of her accusation and he certainly would not disguise matters. Still, he acknowledged, it was awkward-- she had not been raised as he had, she would not be able to see so plainly as he did, the lengths that many people would go to in order to secure a fortune. 

He felt a momentary stab of shame, recollecting that he had also thought similarly of her too and that he had said as much to his aunt. He stifled the feeling, he had been right to be so cautious.

Anne, still at his side, was evidently unable to resist muttering to him as she disengaged her hand from his arm, “how  _ glad _ I am for your sage advice, cousin, I will give it  _ all _ the consideration that your opinion is due.” It was a wonder really, that he had not seen any resemblance between Anne and her sister in Hertfordshire, it was precisely the sort of sarcasm that Elizabeth would fling to him, except that  _ she _ never sounded so snide.

Elizabeth stood, glaring at him as he fumbled about in his mind to find the right words, whilst ignoring Anne’s verbal jab. “Elizabeth,” he repeated, then was silent again. 

“I see you do not deny it, sir.” Why was it that the edge of disappointment in her anger made his shame flare up again? It was like a banked fire that had been smouldering, ready to erupt to flame as soon as it was fed.

“I have no wish to deny it,” he said shortly, uncomfortably aware that such a response would hardly be deemed sufficient.    


Anne left his side and reached for her sister’s hand. “Shall we all go inside? There is nothing to be said out here in the open, where any of the gardeners may overhear us. Let us go in. You are trembling Elizabeth, come in from the cold. We will find Mama.”

Elizabeth took Anne’s hand and tore her burning eyes away from his. He did not much like that, better that she be looking at him, even if it was with anger. He feared that she should now do as she had done after he had kissed her. Darcy had disliked her refusal to look at him then. Perhaps if he could get her alone, he could explain things to her, she would soon see it his way surely-- perhaps she feared that his opinion of her adopted sister’s motives extended to her. He could correct that misapprehension easily enough.    
  
“Yes--” agreed Elizabeth, “I want Mama, except that she will be with her steward at this hour, will she not?” She looked to Anne and, looking on, Darcy took pleasure in the bond that clearly existed between them. Things had been stilted at first but they were coming to rely on each other as they ought. Clearly, his little cousin had heeded his words in the billiards room regarding her treatment of Lady Catherine and had schooled herself to feel all that was proper for them. 

Anne was assured when she answered. “Mama will not mind any interruption from  _ us _ , Elizabeth.” 

The four took the shortest path that led back to the house and once in, Anne cooly directed the footman by the door to inform her ladyship that her daughters desire speech with her at her earliest convenience. Another footman was quickly dispatched to return Chaucer to the kennel and they were left alone.

Richard took the opportunity to hiss into his ear as they divested themselves of their coats. “Darcy this was very badly done indeed! Why did you not  _ tell _ me that the lady in question was Lizzy’s sister? I shouldn’t have breathed a word of it if I had known it.”   
  
Darcy was a just man, everybody said so. “I acknowledge that I ought not to have said anything at all regarding the matter, Richard. I am not angry with you that you let the matter slip.” He drew off his gloves.   
  
This eminently gracious response did not particularly affect his cousin. “ _ Angry _ with me?” exclaimed the colonel, still attempting to whisper. It came out strangely, for he was not used to doing so and the resultant squeak drew Anne’s eye. Elizabeth was carefully not looking at them. “No, I should think that you are not! I have gone to considerable effort to bring Lizzy’s spirits up after all the tumult she has faced these last weeks and--really Darcy, she looked utterly crushed when I said that you had saved Bingley from an imprudent marriage. Your error has undone much good.”

Darcy frowned, “perhaps she looked so for other reasons than Miss Bennet, Richard.” He did not speak his mind on the matter. If he hoped that Elizabeth’s disappointment stemmed from a fear that he viewed her in the same manner as the Bennets he need not say so to his cousin.   
  
Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at him. “Have you  _ no  _ healthy sense of fear, man?”   
  
This drew Darcy’s attention away from trying to catch Elizabeth’s eye. “Of what are you talking, cousin?”   
  
Richard pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb and closed his eyes for a moment. “Darcy,” he explained very patiently, “that female is furious with you.”

“She is upset to be sure, but she does not yet understand my motives properly, once I have explained matters she will see that I acted rightly.”   
  
“Darcy!” interrupted Richard, “if this were  _ anyone _ else I should laugh-- but you are being too obtuse for words...if  _ that _ female is furious with you then it stands to reason that her Mama will  _ also… _ ”

“ _ Her Ladyship _ desires me to communicate to you that she will see the Miss de Bourghs, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam  _ immediately _ ,” intoned the stately footman with a quick look at Elizabeth. The staff at Rosings were intensely curious about the younger Miss de Bourgh, her reappearance being the most exciting thing to occur since the master passed away so suddenly.

Richard drew breath and squared his shoulders before setting off toward the stairs. He looked, imagined Darcy, as a soldier might look before throwing himself into the fray of battle. The colonel’s attitude unsettled him and a sense of foreboding began to creep in, marring his confidence. Darcy followed him.

They were shown into Lady Catherine’s own sitting room where she met with her steward daily. She was seated at her writing-table until she saw Elizabeth’s face and she extended a hand to her in concern.    
  
“Elizabeth? Anne?”   
  
As Lizzy took her mother’s hand, Anne spoke for her. “Forgive the interruption Mama. Darcy has... _ upset _ Elizabeth, I thought it better to bring the matter to you before any argument in the garden caused talk amongst the servants.”   
  
With an admirable sense of military strategy, the Colonel stepped forward. “I must admit my part in it, your ladyship-- I repeated, unknowingly, a tale told to me by Darcy regarding a young female that I had not realised was Elizabeth’s sister-- her sister Miss Bennet, I mean. I do hope you will forgive me, Lizzy, I hadn’t meant to make you unhappy.”

“You had better tell me all,” commanded Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a crease forming between her brows.   
  
“Elizabeth, I did not wish to make you unhappy, either,” said Darcy, quickly.

Lady Catherine intervened and held up a hand to silence her favourite nephew. “I will hear from you in due time, Darcy. Elizabeth,” she said, “I cannot help you if you will not speak.”

Lizzy nodded and drawing some composure from the cool, thin hand that clasped hers firmly, at last spoke with some measure of control. 

“You know, of course, Mama, that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy stayed at Netherfield Park-- a property some three miles from Papa’s estate, last year? Mr. Bingley was generally considered by the neighbourhood to be paying the most  _ particular _ attention to my sister, Jane. At the ball which Mr. Bingley held in November, there was every expectation of his soon calling on Papa but the whole family left the county the day after the ball without taking leave of anyone. Jane still has not recovered from it. Richard told me just now, while we were in the garden, that Mr. Darcy was such a very good friend to Mr. Bingley that he had saved him from an imprudent marriage on account of very strong objections to the lady. There can  _ be _ no objections to Jane, she is everything good and honest, ma’am-- you do not know this yet for you have not met her.” 

Stiffly, and resenting feeling as though he were being called into his father’s study for some misdemeanour, Darcy interjected.

“It was not Miss Bennet  _ herself _ that caused me to act out of concern for my friend-- Bingley is trusting-- too trusting for his own good,  _ his _ is not an old landed family, Aunt-- he is not so used to the arts and allurements intended to draw a wealthy man in.”   
  
“You do not  _ dare _ to accuse Jane of being a fortune hunter, Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Elizabeth with considerable heat. He looked at her, a little surprised by the rancour. She had seemed calm enough since entering the house but it was becoming evident that she was still every bit as angry as she had looked in the garden. 

Lady Catherine took possession of her daughter’s other hand, “no, Elizabeth, not my pounce box, my dear-- I have had it since I made my curtsey to the queen.”   
  
“No--” replied Darcy, “but there was some talk from Mrs. Bennet…” he heard Richard utter a quiet groan and decided that the less said on that subject, the better. “I  _ observed _ Miss Bennet closely after Sir William interrupted our dance and saw nothing that spoke of particular regard. She received my friend's attentions with pleasure, certainly, but I saw nothing in her manners that persuaded me that she felt any warmer regard.”

His reasonable explanation was not accepted so readily as he had presumed it might be. “Why were  _ you _ to be the judge? You had no right to decide in what manner Mr. Bingley was to be happy. If  _ he _ saw enough in Jane to persuade him that she cared for him what is it to you? Is he an  _ infant _ , sir? Your interference was both officious and unwarranted. You have ruined the happiness of a most beloved sister. If Mama  _ did  _ speak too openly of her hopes for Jane, which I do not deny she is prone to do,  _ why _ must you deem her motives to be so base? It is evident to  _ me _ that your disdain for all of us has coloured your ability to judge well. How different is she to any other mother with daughters? Mama,” she entreated Lady Catherine, “would you not wish to see either of us well settled with a gentleman of comfortable circumstances? Particularly if he were an amiable man.”

Lady Catherine was looking at Darcy but her eyes flicked back to Elizabeth at this and she nodded, “Whilst I deplore the public airing of private concerns, the wish does not necessarily speak of mercenary tendencies.”    
  
“You cannot make an accurate judgement of a ladies feelings, cousin, within the space of one ball,” offered Anne, and shifted uncomfortably when Elizabeth sent her a speaking look of gratitude for her apparent defence of Jane. 

“Cannot make an accurate judgement of a ladies feelings at  _ all _ , if it comes to that,” murmured Richard, unhelpfully.   
  
“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. If you are unable to refrain from baiting your cousin as though you were still in school, you may leave my sitting room.”    
  
“I beg your pardon, Lady Catherine,” replied he, evidently wishing to stay.

“I...regret that my advice to my friend may have caused Miss Bennet any heartache, Elizabeth-- I acted, as I saw, for the best-- in Bingley’s best interests. I do not believe, however, that my assessment of the matter was entirely out. Miss Bennet, whatever her feelings-- you must know better on that score-- appeared to me to be of a pliable disposition and looked ready to oblige her mother if coerced. I understand that there was the matter of an entailment to Longbourn and thus--”   
  
Elizabeth’s temper flared again and she interrupted him, “I see you think that you know all  _ manner _ of things about us, Mr. Darcy. I wonder, did you perchance know that Mama’s inheritance from her father amounts to four thousand pounds?   
  
“Yes, I had heard as much,” he answered, wishing that there were some way to make the others in the room go away. Were they able to be private he could then take her into his arms and soothe away her wrath.    


“A paltry amount to  _ you _ , I do not doubt. Little wonder that you thought us unworthy of any civility. Did you also know that she herself insisted that those same four thousand pounds be divided between all five of us? That  _ I _ must be allotted the same inheritance as the children born from her womb?”   
  
“No,” said Mr. Darcy, very quietly, “no, I did not know that.”   
  
Lady Catherine, who had released Elizabeth’s hands when she spoke of Mrs. Bennet’s maternal virtues, moved her inkpot a little way across the table and out of her daughter’s reach.

“Well, Nephew, if you are willing to admit your error then you had better amend matters. If you still insist that you were in the right then you may absent yourself from my sitting room until you have righted yourself. I take a dim view of gentlemen taking control of matters that they have no part in. My late, unlamented, husband was ever of the opinion that his intellectual powers of judgement were greater than they were-- those delusions were what led him to believe that he could willy-nilly order  _ my _ daughter got rid of. Of all things I abhor, unwarranted pride is the worst of them, Fitzwilliam-- see that you do not fall prey to it.”

Darcy looked about the room. He was unused to Lady Catherine taking a contrary view to his and seeing her there, so close to Elizabeth, he realised that her favour had been transferred to the young, dark-eyed, woman who was glaring at him still. Richard looked ironically amused and it did not take much effort to realise why. Anne, only Anne, looked as though she understood how he felt at that moment-- her face, which was not usually so openly expressive as her sister's was clearly writ with the shame of realisation. 

The Bennets were every bit as much Elizabeth’s family as the de Bourghs were. They had loved her deeply and without expectation of any benefit other than the pleasure of being near her. He knew that pleasure well, it had grown with every passing day that he delayed returning to Pemberley. He knew also, that Charles Bingley had felt so last November but had reluctantly been persuaded that Miss Bennet could not love him in return.

His conscience smarting him sorely, Mr. Darcy bowed low in Elizabeth’s direction and quit the room.    
  



	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Thank you yet again to all you lovely readers who are still with me. I hope you enjoy the chapter. I'm feeling particularly smug because it is the second time in a row that I am posting when I actually said I would do so-- if I carry on like this I will soon have to give up my official unreliability certificate. ;)

“He is not so bad as you think him, you know,” said Anne. She had come to Elizabeth’s room that evening after they had bidden their mother a good night and their maids had been dismissed. It had been Lizzy who had started their long evening talks together, having wistfully told Anne of the times she had spent at Longbourn, talking until the candles guttered in their sockets. 

Elizabeth adjusted her shawl. She had woken every morning to a roaring fire, the servants having been directed by Lady Catherine that Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh must have a fire laid in readiness for her whatsoever hour she habitually rose, but she wore a thick shawl from habit rather than anything else. 

She did not need to ask to whom Anne was referring. Mr. Darcy had not come down to dinner that evening, sending a message that he had important letters to write. “He is not an easy man to understand, Anne. When I arrived in Hunsford I was absolutely certain that I comprehended him-- I thought him odiously proud and conceited, but he has been so kind and attentive that I was forced to rethink my previous opinions. Now I hardly know what to believe.”   
  
“I suppose it would be impossible to think him all these things at one and the same time? Do you go through the world thinking everyone in it wholly good or wholly bad, Elizabeth?” Anne sent her younger sister a level look.   
  
“It has been my long habit, yes,” replied Lizzy, smiling, “I have so prided myself on being well able to judge which of the two options my acquaintances belong with that I have not cared to add in  _ more _ divisions.”   
  
“I was suggesting the  _ removal _ of the categories altogether, my dear, not further complicating matters.”   
  
“Oh, but I must have some distinction! I was used to thinking of myself as being so very discerning--the  _ clever _ Bennet sister. But we were speaking of our neither good nor bad, cousin Mr. Darcy were we not? How dull that makes him sound! I am inclined to think Mr. Wickham had the right of it when he said our cousin was quite capable of being agreeable amongst his own society. Mayhap I would not have seen it had I not happened to be part of that society.”   
  
Anne, who had been frowning at the flames dancing in the hearth looked up from the fire in surprise.    


“Mr.  _ Wickham _ ?”   
  
“Yes-- he was the son of the late Mr. Darcy’s steward.”   
  
“I know very well who he is, Elizabeth, but how came  _ you _ to know him?” 

“He is a lieutenant in Colonel Foresters regiment, Anne-- have I not told you this? I am certain I did-- when you teased me only last week that I should be quite swept off my feet by a red coat.”   
  
Anne looked troubled. “My memory is very good, Elizabeth-- you did not mention his name. If you had I assure you I would have enquired further until I knew all there was to know of his acquaintance with you.”

“How  _ like _ Mama you are, my dear.”   
  
“Lizzy,  _ do _ be serious. Mr. Wickham is not a man to be trusted.”   
  
Elizabeth tilted her head, “now  _ that _ is a phrase I have heard before but with no explanation nor any evidence as to why. The last time it was said to me the person speaking had taken their account indirectly from Mr. Darcy, I wonder where you can have heard it.”   
  
Anne stiffened in her chair, “I am not a fool, Elizabeth-- I can quite see that you think I have taken Darcy’s opinion and truth and that I am wrong. In this case, it is  _ you _ who are in error-- my knowledge comes from elsewhere.” She paused, considering, “I will tell you because it would be wrong to conceal the truth of the matter from anyone in the family.”

“I suppose there is some delicious family scandal I am about to hear of,” replied Elizabeth, aware that Anne was irritated and trying to make her smile.

Her sister remained serious and gave her a stern look, “it is not a matter for jesting-- and whether or not you will find it ‘delicious’...I trust not, but I will leave it for you to judge. You are capable of discretion, I know, so I shan’t extract any promise of silence from you.”   
  
“Tell on, my dear-- I am sorry for being flippant. I shan’t tell a soul, I promise.”

“My knowledge of Mr. Wickham’s bad character comes from Georgiana.”   
  
Elizabeth was disappointed, “Oh Anne! Can you not see that she will  _ dutifully _ take on her brothers’ opinion of the man... “   
  
Tartly, Anne interrupted her, “mark my words, Elizabeth-- one day you will learn to be less hasty in your judgements and it will not be a pleasant experience for you. George Wickham, when Georgiana was but  _ fifteen-- _ last summer, in fact, persuaded her to elope with him. Lest you deceive yourself that there was any love in the case, all had been planned between him and her companion, Mrs. Younge-- they had designs on her fortune. It was a bad business, Darcy was as furious as I have ever seen him. He brought her here once he had sent Wickham off-- for she was relatively near, in Ramsgate, when it all occurred.”   
  
Elizabeth stared at Anne.

“ _ What _ ?”

“You heard me clearly enough, sister. I have no need to repeat it-- it is  _ not _ a subject I care to dwell on.”   
  
Agitated, Lizzy rose from her seat and turned about the room. “This is absolutely certain? George Wickham tried to persuade a fifteen-year-old girl to run off with him?” She let out a long breath. “I do not wonder that Darcy hates him so, then. I wondered where their antipathy came from--” Further realisation dawned and she groaned, “oh I am a fool, Anne! Wickham told me  _ such _ a tale and I  _ believed _ him…”

“Lizzy, do come and sit down, you are worrying me-- please tell me that he did not engage  _ your _ interest-- that your current distress does not stem from your heart being in any danger?”   
  
“I? No--but I cannot deny that I liked him very much-- he was charming and handsome and he paid me more attention than he did my sisters. My vanity was flattered I suppose and I was utterly ready and willing to believe all the lies he has fed me. Oh, how he must have laughed to find me such a wretched,  _ gullible _ fool.”

“What on earth did he  _ say,  _ he did not dare speak of Georgiana?” Anne looked a little anxious at the thought of it. 

“No, nothing like that.I will tell you the whole of it in but a moment. Perhaps you will find some amusement in my embarrassment, I cannot at present, not even at my own expense. Mr. Wickham informed me that Mr. Darcy had disregarded his father’s will and quite cut him out-- there was some talk of a living he had been promised. Oh, why did I not  _ see  _ Anne? He confided in me too quickly, asking me to keep the details to myself and then he himself must have published it abroad once Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had taken themselves off from the county.” Elizabeth twisted at the ends of her shawl and Anne, who had previously been stern, softened and patted her hand.    
  
“You are not the first young lady to be deceived by him, you need not be so hard upon yourself.”    
  
“I have not Miss Darcy’s excuse, her youth must be reason enough for her having been deceived, I have only to blame my determination to dislike Mr. Darcy on account of wounded vanity.”   
  
“I suppose Darcy said something to offend you?”   
  
“Oh yes, what will you think of my vanity? I overheard him speaking with Mr. Bingley and declaring me to be merely ‘tolerable’ but not nearly handsome enough to tempt him onto the dance floor.”

Anne quirked an eyebrow. 

“I see your wry smile, Anne-- you need not think I have not noticed it.”   
  
“Forgive me, I am smiling at our cousin’s ineptness if anything.” 

Lizzy smiled for a moment at that before becoming serious again. 

“Tell me, how is Miss Darcy now? Has she recovered from her disappointment? Fifteen is too young an age to suffer regret.”   
  
“She is well enough, judging by her letters I believe that  _ your _ reappearance has cheered her spirits, although she is greatly fearful that people would despise if they knew. She was ever reserved but now it is difficult to get her to speak at all in company. Darcy worries for her, he always has-- ever since he became her guardian when she was ten.”   
  
“Oh,  _ dear _ \-- and he, Wickham, would have known her from her youth, she would have  _ trusted _ him and he-- no I cannot think of it, it is too dreadful. Had he succeeded…”   
  
“Had he succeeded I do not think he would have lived long. Richard also stands as a guardian to Georgiana and after last summer Mama was adamant that such a wicked character should not be permitted to live. It was Georgiana’s pleas and our Uncle Matlock’s counsel that dissuaded Richard from going after him. I do not think Darcy would have intervened for Wickham’s life at that point, and he is a rational man.”

“She must have been glad when Sir Lewis died,” said Elizabeth, thoughtfully.   
  
“Yes,” said Anne, shortly, “as was I.”

“I am glad I did not have to meet him as an adult, to have such a villain as a father-- how dreadful.”  
  
“The worst of it was, Elizabeth, that you would not know of his villainy to look at him. He did not look like a monstrous character-- he looked like an ordinary man and was, I thought, an ordinary father. I _wanted_ to love him when I was a girl.”  
  
Lizzy sighed, “I suppose it is the same with the likes of George Wickham. He is handsome and charming-- it is not at all fair on the unsuspecting females in the world that the wicked are not clearly labelled.”  
  
“If they were, one would also have to neatly label the good also and how many of us would merit it?”  
  
Elizabeth leant her head to rest on Anne’s shoulder and her older sister’s arm came about her shoulder. 

“It must be terribly late now for we are in danger of becoming philosophical,” she smothered a yawn, “how many of life’s great mysteries might we two women fathom out if only our bodies could remain awake the whole night? It always seems as though we are on the very cusp of truly great thought before we must close our eyes and sleep.”   
  
She felt Anne’s shoulder shake gently under her cheek and Lizzy smiled in contentment. 

Later on that night, sometime after the clock chimed an early hour, the door to Elizabeth’s room opened softly. It was well oiled and did not let out even the slightest creak. A lone figure softly made their way over to the bed and pushed back the curtain a little way. 

Elizabeth and Anne had evidently decided to sleep in the same bed that night and, to their mother looking on, there was no sight so soothing to her heart. Sleep often evaded Lady Catherine, ever since her daughter had been taken from her she had dreaded the silence of the long nights and the inevitable fear that often plagued her dreams. It had long been her habit to walk about the house at night when all else was still and since Elizabeth had been restored to the place of her birth, Catherine de Bourgh had frequently entered her room and see her daughter her own two eyes. 

How she loved them both, these two girls that nestled so sweetly together, Elizabeth’s fingertips rested on the lace edge of the same blanket that had been the means of uniting them all. Catherine had treasured the time they had all been shut up together away from the world but perhaps her brother was correct in his letter. The world outside was curious and would  _ remain _ curious until some sight of Elizabeth de Bourgh was had. 

Perhaps it  _ was _ time to leave Rosings Park, with all its guilty, nightmarish, memories behind for now and to travel together.    
  
Matlock had promised a ball if she ventured so far north, after all, and she rather suspected that Elizabeth’s enjoyment of such an event might even persuade her Anne to tolerate being fitted for new gowns. It was a pleasant thought.   
  
Catherine smiled in satisfaction and finally feeling weary enough to sleep, let the heavy bed curtain fall and slowly returned to her own room.   
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days late, sorry! I wasn't feeling too shiny on Friday and only just got a chance to look over what I had written today. I am sorry to everyone who commented last chapter, I intend to go and answer you all now-- I decided that it was better to use the time/energy to get the next chapter ready. I wouldn't wish any of you to think that I don't value your thoughts, I really do.
> 
> Anyway. Thanks for reading! :)

It was with great surprise that Mr. Darcy, preparing to leave the house before breakfast for some morning exercise was met by a far more civil Elizabeth than he had expected. She was already in her pelisse and bonnet and was observing the clock when she heard his step on the stair.   
  
“Ah, there you are cousin-- you were slow to rise this morning, I have been walking this vestibule some time in the hope of encountering you. Might I come with you on your walk?” she asked, even as she drew on her gloves, “I have...we must speak, I think. It seems that it will be the most expedient way for us to come to an understanding.”   
  
Mr. Darcy gaped at her in astonishment and belatedly realising what she had said, Elizabeth flushed a deep shade of pink, “Oh, _no_ ! I did not mean _\--no_ , I meant that we should understand each other rather better. Not...I meant _nothing_ else. Obviously.”

Her cousin studied her for a moment before bowing and gesturing with an arm that she should proceed him out through the front door.   
  
Her cheeks still warm, Elizabeth was grateful for the cool morning air when they went out. It looked as though the day would be a fine one, but for now, in the shadow of the house, it was chilly enough to soothe away the outward signs of her embarrassment. 

Her thoughts, not habitually given to dwelling on what was unpleasant to her mind, soon turned to her appreciation of the ridiculous and very shortly she bit her lip to hide her smile.  
  
He noticed, of course. “I wish you would share the source of your amusement, Elizabeth-- I am in need of a lift to my spirits.”   
  
“Oh, cousin. If your unhappiness is on my account I wish that you would rid yourself of it-- I do not desire you to be cast down in great misery, you know. In the light of day, after a nights repose, I find I am better able to see that the situation with my sister and Mr. Bingley is not past mending.”   
  
“I am very glad that you should think so, Elizabeth-- I confess I had thought you should hate me, even more, today than yesterday.”   
  
“Hate you! Oh no!” she said and thought, even as she denied it, that she had not truly disliked him for some time now. She could not think at what precise point in time she had become accustomed to him but, she reasoned, she would not have stepped so willingly into his arms that morning Papa left if she had not started to rid herself of _some_ of her antipathy for him. “No,” she repeated, slowly and clearly, “I do not hate you, Mr. Darcy-- do not think it.”   
  
“Which way shall we walk?” he asked, as they came to the end of the path.   
  
“I do not mind really, I will go where you go-- it is I that have intruded upon your solitary walk, after all. You need not change your intended course to please me.”   
  
“I feel that you ought to be responsible for directing us, seeing as I will be too occupied in crafting my response to your surprising proposal of marriage.”

Elizabeth turned red again, but soon laughed at his dry tone and acknowledged his joke, “It is not at all gentlemanly of you to tease me so, cousin. That was what I was smiling about only a moment ago-- how ridiculous it would be for us to find ourselves shackled together so, and what a fix I should be in if you were to hold me to a badly phrased expression. I must be tired, I do not ordinarily have such difficulty in making my meaning plain.”  
  
“I had observed it,” he quietly replied and smiled a little when Elizabeth laughed again. “We shall head in a north-westerly direction then, and skirt the wood before returning to Rosings past Granger’s farm, does that suit you?”   
  
It suited her well enough, and she said as much. They walked for a little way in silence, Darcy was quiet, even by his usual standards and Elizabeth was trying to think of a way to broach the subject of Wickham.   
  
They wandered up a hill together and Mr. Darcy spoke. “I have written to Bingley, Elizabeth,” he said, sounding contrite, “in my letter I confessed to him the whole of mine and Miss Bingley’s collusion in concealing from him, Miss Bennet’s being in town this winter. I regret that she has been wounded by any action of mine. I cannot undo what has been done, I fear-- but I hope, at least a little, that the letter will clear the way for some resolution. I am indeed sorry to have caused anyone pain.”

Lizzy drew in a long breath. There was something that she could not quite like in hearing that Mr. Darcy had conspired with Mr. Bingley’s sister against Jane but she was hardly going to humiliate herself by saying so aloud to him.

“Well, you _were_ wrong to separate them-- Jane has indeed been feeling bereft, twice over really, for she and I were one another’s closest companions.” He winced and Elizabeth, seeing the truth of his remorse, felt a little sorry for him. “Come Mr. Darcy, I know enough of your character now to know that you did not set out to cause pain-- I would not wonder at it if you were utterly convinced that your actions were right and just.”  
  
He looked a little surprised, “I should like to think that no gentleman would act without feeling the rightness of his actions, it would be very odd to go about doing a thing whilst feeling the wrongness of it.”   
  
“I refer you to your Uncle, Mr. Darcy.”  
  
“Yes, there is that. I would not have you to believe me naive, Elizabeth-- I am aware that wickedness exists and that some men will willingly do it.”  
  
“But not being one of those wicked men, you cannot comprehend their motivations?”  
  
“Precisely so.”  
  
They walked on together, now skirting the wood and spent above ten minutes in silence.   
  
_When we reach the edge of the wood,_ Elizabeth thought, _I will gather up my courage and speak to him of Wickham-- it will be a wrench for I suppose I must also confess my belief that he was one of those same wicked men that he is too good to understand._

“Mr. Darcy,” she said, once they had reached the end of the trees on their left side, “I cannot have you supposing that my more rational demeanour this morning is wholly due to sleep and reflection.”  
  
He stopped and looked at her. “I did not think of it, I know you to have an excellent disposition. You may, with provocation, occasionally give in to fits of temper but you do not hold onto your anger for very long.”   
  
“Oh, dear! I shall have to disappoint you, sir, after such a pretty compliment too, it is a pity.”   
  
“I doubt that I will be disappointed,” he said, with sufficient warmth in his face that Elizabeth could not look at him for long and studied her gloves.   
  
“I have been nursing an unjust dislike of you, Mr. Darcy, and I am very sorry for it.”   
  
Mr. Darcy recommenced walking and Lizzy fell into step with him. He seemed to struggle for the correct words for a little while before eventually replying.   
  
“I have been thinking, a good deal, about what you said yesterday-- that you believed I thought you, and your family unworthy of any civility. You meant, I imagine, that my manners in Hertfordshire were lacking.” 

Elizabeth answered, uncomfortably, “We received the impression that you thought us beneath your notice, yes.” 

“I was afraid of that.”  
  
“Were we wrong, sir?” asked Elizabeth, a little hopefully.   
  
“I fear not. I was guilty of no small degree of pride, as I realised last night. I may not have intended it to be so evident in Hertfordshire but I cannot deny that my demeanour must have amply conveyed my inner thoughts.”

Elizabeth was silent.   
  
“ _I_ have disappointed _you_ ,” he stated, “I do not like to do so-- I intend to exert myself, to be on my guard against the fault in future, but words are but empty promises, are they not? You will see for yourself, I hope-- that I mean to do better.”   
  
“It is always disappointing to know that one has been disdained. It is a blow to my vanity to be sure, but that is not necessarily to be avoided. It would be far easier to bear if I did not know that my family did not sometimes lack propriety in public places. Were we all so excellent as Jane, I might toss your words back to you and say ‘there, you were utterly wrong about us’ but it would be inaccurate to do so.”   
  
“Of yourself, and Miss Bennet-- there can be no criticism given,” he said carefully, unwilling to offend her.

“You are correct about Jane,” she sighed, “but unfortunately wrong about me. I must now confess myself to have been foolishly taken in by the slanderous tales of Mr. Wickham.”

“I see,” was all he said, and Elizabeth felt miserable. 

“Anne told me the truth of the matter last evening,” she said, quickly, “you may be assured that I will not say a word to anyone. Tell me, how is your sister now?” 

“Did Mr. Wickham’s _slanderous tales_ , as you call them, make mention of Georgiana?” he asked, sounding grave. “I trust in your discretion, Elizabeth, your assurances are quite unnecessary, I should have told you myself but it is a subject I do not like to revisit.”   
  
“No-- he said nothing of her other than that he feared she had grown from a sweet girl into a proud young woman. The larger part of his falsehood was concerned with your supposed disregard of the _late_ Mr. Darcy’s will-- my uncle, as I suppose he was. How strange!” 

The present Mr. Darcy looked angry at the insult to his sister and irritated by the lie regarding the will but there must have been something in her bemused expression to amuse him for the corner of his eyes crinkled up slightly as he said, “You have had much to accustom yourself to, have you not, my dear?” the laughter in his eyes faded, “I did not think of it for too long, being so concerned with my aunt’s feelings being wounded, but you have had the far more difficult time of it than anyone. A different environment, new relatives to meet and many departed ancestors to learn of-- little wonder you resisted the change for so long.” 

She inclined her head, not denying the difficulty she had faced, even as her heart beat a little faster at the endearment. “Disbelief played a part in that, it seemed so strange to me that anyone should expect me to love you all as I do the Bennets without the benefit of time to become well acquainted. In addition to that, I had formed hasty judgments concerning Mama and even Anne based on...well, I was prejudiced against them. “It does not matter so very much now, does it? I miss Longbourn but I am becoming fonder of the woods and groves here with each passing day.”  
  
“Based on your dislike of _me_ , you mean. Would you believe that I thought too well of myself to see that you thought meanly of me?”   
  
Unable to resist repaying him for his earlier jibe at the expense of her embarrassment, she looked mischievous-- “Oh, I can believe it readily, sir.”   
  
He smiled, more on account of her manner than the import of her words.   
  
“At least misunderstandings have been dispelled and both my pride and your first impressions can be seen to, I am glad of that at least before I leave.”   
  
“ _Leave_ ?” repeated Lizzy, taken by surprise.   
  
“Yes, I must you know, I have put it off for long enough. Georgiana wishes to see me and I have business at Pemberley that cannot be done properly by letter.”   
  
Suddenly near to tears, Elizabeth nodded, unwilling to speak lest her voice tremble. They were now nearing Granger’s farm and Elizabeth, for want of a distraction laid her hand on the gatepost that led into a large meadowy field containing a lone, red bull. 

After a minute or two she felt able to trust herself and forcing a smile, commented on the animal. “He is not a particularly impressive animal in terms of size, is he Mr. Darcy? Perhaps that is why he has been separated from the cows because they laughed at him for it. See how short his legs are, sir!”   
  
“I am more familiar with sheep but I believe that particular breed is intended to be small. Furthermore, if my memory is correct the unpleasant temperament of the bulls quickly dispels any amusement at their expense.”   
  
“It is often so, is it not? In Meryton, the blacksmith recently died-- after you departed from Netherfield. Papa was speaking with Sir William about him, an excellent smithy by all accounts but dreadfully violent if anyone were to pass any remark on his small stature. He was smaller even than me.”

They walked on together and spying the lane that led to Hunsford Parsonage, Elizabeth said that she must call at the Parsonage later that afternoon. “I have not been there since that morning Lady Catherine summoned me after breakfast-- it is a very bad sort of friend I am, sir.” She added, “I will be glad of the distraction once you are gone, and mean to do better by Charlotte even if it means that I must tolerate Mr. Collins. It is partially the reason I have stayed away, I am not sure I wish to hear his thoughts on the matter of my birth.”  
  
“It is hardly his business, Elizabeth.” Mr. Darcy looked stern and Lizzy smiled.   
  
“How haughty you sound, Mr. Darcy! I shall redouble my efforts to show you by my example how one must go about the matter of truly gracious condescension.”   
  
“I am to come with you then, to observe?” 

“Yes, if you please, for otherwise, you will only have my word for it that I acquitted myself well. Anne will not come, I know-- she finds Mr. Collins a trial-- I wonder why it is that my mother gave him the preferment.” 

Coming into view of the house, they wandered up the driveway. 

“I would think she gave the living to the candidate that looked the least likely to give her any trouble. Perhaps she looked for a man as opposite in character to Sir Lewis as she possibly could-- Mr. Collins may talk a great deal but there is no malice in him.”

“Yes, that is true, Jane said something similar-- I suppose from Charlotte’s perspective it is an eligible match, _she_ will not suffer what Mama did.” 

“If my aunt could have given the living to a woman, she would have done so,” added Mr. Darcy, seeing that she looked a little glum.   
  
Shocked into laughter by the thought, Elizabeth nodded, “yes, I have observed that she has a very low opinion of any man that is not directly related to her.” They passed the ornamental pond, “Perhaps that is why Hubert thought he stood some hope. How wrong he was!”

When the two reentered the house Elizabeth reflected that they were on far better terms with each other than they had ever been before. It was a pity that separation now loomed, she had grown used to him being there and now that they had spoken so openly to one another she was inclined to see Mr. Darcy as being quite necessary to a contented life at Rosings. If there was aught that could be done for the comfort of herself or the other ladies, Darcy could not sit idle and wait for it to be done. Of course, he had his own home to go to and his own young sister to care for. Perhaps that was what made him such a good cousin to have, he was in the way of watching over Georgiana and so he had naturally felt protective toward her once the relationship was discovered.

They met Lady Catherine at the top of the stairs.   
  
“How well you look in blue, Mama-- I do not believe I have ever seen that shade on you before. You see, your ladyship-- my cousin and I have mended matters between us and are fast on the way to becoming good friends, so we may all be cosy again here. It will only be for a little while longer though, for Mr. Darcy has told me this morning that he is to leave us.”   
  
Lady Catherine, who did indeed look well in both dress and happy expression, nodded in her brisk way. “It is well that you are no longer at outs with each other-- it would be excessively awkward if there were to be a ball at Matlock in your honour and you were not on terms. People should immediately notice and the talk would be damaging.” Lady Catherine took out her delicate gold pocket watch and looked at it, “You must hasten to change your gown for breakfast, Elizabeth-- you are in danger of being late.” With that, she passed them and descended with a steady, graceful step down the great stairway.   
  
Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy in surprise for a moment but he did not appear to comprehend Lady Catherine either, “Mama! What ball are you talking of? In Matlock, I do not understand. Mama?” 

Lady Catherine did not slow her step or turn around, “Change your dress, my daughter,” was all she would reply. 

“Mama!” exclaimed Elizabeth again, leaning a little over the ornately carved rail at the top of the stairs-- expecting that Lady Catherine would turn around and explain herself. Receiving no response Lizzy threw up her hands and hastened off to her bedchamber, intent upon soon going down to the breakfast room and receiving the answers she desired.  
  
As she opened the door to her room she heard the faint strains of Lady Catherine’s amusement echoing up the stairs.   


  
  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  



	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look. I'm late again. I am sure you are all fainting off from the shock of it. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd, I would like to say that I am never offended by people who let me know where I have obviously mucked up. You shouldn't feel obliged to, I want you to read it for the enjoyment of it after all, but if you see something that bugs you, feel free to let me know and I will try to fix it. :)
> 
> Welp. I have a Grammarly tone checker on right now and it says I am sounding a bit egocentric. Must be all the "I's" 
> 
> :) IIIIIII hope you enjoy.

Elizabeth’s steps slowed as she and Mr. Darcy approached the painted gate that led to Hunsford Parsonage. Her companion, by now well used to the usual pace that she usually walked, slowed also and looked askance at her.

She fiddled a little with the ribbons of her bonnet. Lady Catherine had spoken at breakfast of spending some time in London in order to procure her a wardrobe that was befitting her station in life but for now, she wore a favourite muslin dress, her straw bonnet with red ribbons and the embroidered shawl that Anne had presented her with some little time ago. She looked very well attired thus, simplicity suited her and for today, to see Charlotte-- she did not wish to look so very different to how she had as Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.    
  
“Would you believe it, cousin, I am feeling no small amount of trepidation. So much so that I could quite easily turn on my heel rather than walk through that front door.” 

He stopped walking and looked down at her-- the expression on her face was indeed anxious. 

“You need not go in if you lack the courage, my dear but I think that you would regret it, later on, should you not call on Mrs. Collins. She is the same friend that you found in Miss Lucas for so many years after all.” 

A feeble laugh escaped her, “Oh I know that I must and of course I am aware that Charlotte Collins and Charlotte Lucas are one and the same person but I wonder if she will see Elizabeth Bennet and Elizabeth de Bourgh in the same fashion.”   
  
Mr. Darcy answered her pragmatically, “You have said yourself that she is a sensible woman, Elizabeth. If you are to convince her that you are unchanged then you will need to speak with her in order to accomplish the feat.”    
  
“Yes...yes, you are right, of course, you are right.”   
  
“Of course,” he agreed, with the hint of a smile in his voice. It made her look up at him quickly and laugh again.   
  
“How do you contrive to appear so very serious in expression, sir? You are clearly much diverted by my silliness. We will go in.”   
  
She did not move to do so, however, remaining stationary by the gate. He waited for her to speak again in explanation.   
  
“Only...what if she does  _ not _ find me unaltered?”   
  
He nodded, it was one of the nicer things about Mr. Darcy, that he did not often need to ask for her to explain things to him.   
  
“You are, in essentials, as you ever were. If Mrs. Collins is as sensible a woman as you have assured me she is then you need not be overly concerned. You are twenty years old, very few ladies your age are firmly set in their ways-- circumstances in life have a way of altering us but our characters do not waver.”   
  
The front door opened and Charlotte appeared, the two old friends stared at one another for a moment. 

“Oh, are you going out Charlotte? We will not call in if you are.”   
  
Charlotte shook her head, and answered slowly, “no, no-- I was not thinking of going out-- I was only coming outside to look over the poultry.” She dipped a curtsey to Mr. Darcy, “How do you do, Mr. Darcy.”   
  
He bowed to Mrs. Collins. “Good afternoon, madam. Is your husband within?”    
  
“Yes, he is shut up in his book room, I can summon him if you wish sir?”

“On no account Mrs. Collins, I would not have you disturb him. Well, Elizabeth? Are we to go in?”   
  
“May we, Charlotte?” asked Elizabeth, with an anxious look that Mrs, Collins, astonished upon hearing Mr. Darcy address her friend so familiarly, did not at first observe.   
  
“Naturally-- do come in.”    
  
They did so, Elizabeth heading into the parlour at Charlotte’s gesture. Mrs. Collins rang the bell and told the maid to bring the tea tray in. Elizabeth sat looking about her, the room had not changed at all since she had left the parsonage and yet it felt different to her.

Mr. Darcy sat nearby and looked at her significantly. She glumly thought that if she did not begin to speak soon she would lose her courage. It mattered to her that he should not think her a coward.    
  
“I am sorry, Charlotte, that I have not come sooner-- I know that I ought to have come but…” she heaved a deep breath, fidgeting a little under her friend’s steady gaze, “the truth of the matter is that I have found my family…the family of my birth, I mean. Lady Catherine is my mother.”

Charlotte nodded once. “Yes. I know. I heard rumours of it in Hunsford and then Mama wrote to me of the matter, saying that Mrs Long had said an announcement had appeared in the London papers.”   
  
Elizabeth felt ashamed. “I had not intended...I did not intentionally seek to leave ignorant of how matters stood. In the first weeks, all was so uncertain that I could hardly believe it myself.”

“And after that?” asked Charlotte, mildly enough but evidently not pleased with such an explanation.

“Elizabeth has under considerable strain, Mrs. Collins. Certain matters arose at Rosings that she is not at liberty to speak of outside of the immediate family. You cannot blame us, madam, for having kept her close by given that she has been absent from us for twenty years.”

Mr. Darcy spoke in measured tones, but it was clear that he did not expect to encounter any disagreement on the subject. Elizabeth threw him a grateful look and he was amply rewarded.    
  
“I see.” Charlotte thawed very slightly, “I imagine that there is some necessary secrecy regarding the reason for your being brought up at Longbourn, Miss de Bourgh?”

“Oh, you  _ shall _ not call me so, Charlotte-- not when we have been fast friends since our girlhood. I have been thoughtless, certainly, and I have felt the want of your advice but, you must believe me, it was not possible to cross the lane and speak to you. It is not only my history, you see-- it is my mother’s and Anne’s too.” 

She broke off as the maid entered with the tea, the girl stared curiously at Elizabeth until Mrs. Collins dismissed her sharply. 

Charlotte sighed, “very well, Eliza, I can see that your situation must have been trying and if Tilly’s behaviour is any example it is no wonder you should have stayed close to home. I was only a little put-out to have been given so little information about your welfare when you had one of your headaches and then our interview with Mr. Darcy did not much allay my concern. I have been worried…”   
  
“And your concern naturally gave way to displeasure when you thought that I had cut you off.”   
  
Charlotte nodded, “Mr. Collins thought that you might not wish to continue the acquaintance due to…” she glanced at Mr. Darcy who was looking earnestly at Lizzy, “due to your difference of opinion at Longbourn before he was so good as to offer for me. It is partially why he has kept himself from Rosings these last weeks.”

Disbelieving, Elizabeth laughed, “you may tell Mr. Collins that I have no grudge to bear for our argument and that if Mama knows of it then it shan’t be doing.  _ Poor _ Mr. Collins. You do forgive me, Charlotte? We are to go away for a time, you are the first in the area to receive  _ that _ news for Lady Catherine only told me of it this morning, and it would be a sad thing to think of you here and thinking ill of me.”   
Shaking her head a little at Elizabeth’s laughter, Charlotte made her way to the tray where it rested on the table and poured her guests out a cup each. 

“I hope Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh are aware that it is a difficult thing to remain cross with you for very long.”   
  
Lizzy smiled, her anxiety regarding their friendship receding and took her cup from her friend, “if they are not, I trust that you will not enlighten them-- it gives one such an advantage to keep some surprises for later.” She sipped at her tea, “We are to travel, Charlotte! First to Ramsgate-- it was Ramsgate was it not Mr. Darcy? Then after two weeks we will go to London and spend three weeks at the townhouse, Lady Catherine would have some sympathy for Papa, for she says that she dislikes London usually and never stays there unless she must have a new wardrobe. After we have exhausted the dressmakers of London we are to head north in a very stately fashion and go on to Matlock-- my uncle is to give a ball there in my honour. It is to welcome me formally.”    
  
“When are you to leave, Eliza?” asked Charlotte. 

“Soon! Mama says that we should be gone within a few days to Ramsgate, four at most-- she has already written to the earl naming the day of the ball.”    
  
“Ramsgate is not so far from here-- I know that you have always wished to spend some time at the sea.” 

Elizabeth nodded, “it is an excellent plan, for I will own that I have been sorely tried with one thing and another. I will think myself very well satisfied if I can wake up of a morning and walk quickly to a fine view of the shore-- shall I be able to do so sir? Is the house we are to stay in very far into the town?”   
  
Mr. Darcy smiled at Elizabeth in such a way that made Mrs. Collins set down her cup. If she had thought that he admired her friend before, she was certain of it now-- he was not an expressive man but the tenderness with which he regarded his cousin was very evident.   
  
“You will be able to see it just as soon as you wake in the morning and the maid draws back your curtains-- the house is on the seafront, it is a small matter of crossing the road to be directly beside it.”   
  
“It sounds utterly delightful, I shall persuade Mama that we must all go sea-bathing. I will write to you of my success in the venture, Charlotte.” 

Charlotte, who had picked up her cup, was obliged to set it down again. Mr. Darcy, evidently having grown used to Elizabeth’s peculiar ability to tease blushed a little but did not reply to his cousin.

They talked amicably for a further ten minutes and then took their leave. Between the two ladies, there was a deep affection for one another and their farewell was warm. If Mrs. Collins marriage had distanced them somewhat, Elizabeth’s sincere apology for her thoughtlessness drew them closer together again. 

Charlotte watched them from the window as they walked down the path together. They made a handsome pair, there was no doubt of that. She smiled as he offered Elizabeth his arm and it was readily accepted. The dislike that Eliza had harboured for the gentleman in Hertfordshire appeared to have diminished significantly. Mr. Collins emerged from his bookroom-- clearly having seen the two figures making their way down the lane away from the house. 

“Was that Mr. Darcy who just called?”   
  
“Yes, my dear-- Elizabeth wished to call in before they all quit Rosings for some time.”   
  
“And…” he searched for the correct words, “did she give any indication that the rumours…the papers, are they true? How do matters stand?”   
  
“She is indeed the daughter of Lady Catherine-- Mr. Collins. She wished me to pass on to you that she was grateful for the hospitality she received in this house before finding her family.”    
  
Mr. Collins seemed to struggle within himself. “How...extraordinary.” He stared blankly at the sketch of a tree that hung on the wall in its carved frame.

Delicately Charlotte informed him that her friend bore him no ill will for whatever disagreement they had had at Longbourn. He seemed greatly relieved. 

“That is, that is...  _ gracious _ . I should have hardly expected anything else from  _ anyone _ related to her ladyship. Did she,  _ perchance _ , mention anything of whether...or not I ought to cease referring to as my  _ cousin _ ?”

  
  



	25. Chapter 25

_ Bamber House, Ramsgate _

_ My dear Jane,  _

_ You will note from the address that we have removed from Rosings for the present and have come to Ramsgate for two weeks. The gentlemen have left us, the Colonel to London and Mr. Darcy to his sister at Pemberley. Will you believe me, dearest, if I tell you that I have most particularly felt the want of Mr. Darcy? I know well that you always liked him well enough, but, alas, your stubborn younger sibling has taken the better part of a year to realise what you saw instantly. I shall sorely miss the countless little things that the gentleman does in order to make life more comfortable. One cannot, upon closer acquaintance, help liking him. _

_ I would not have you to believe I find Mama or Anne inadequate company, it seems that scarcely a day goes by but that I learn something of peculiar interest of this family that I never knew before.  _

_ Take this house that we have come to for example-- it belongs to Mr. Darcy and he never dropped a word of it to me, perhaps not wishing to seem boastful. As though I could accuse him of any such thing-- if he has pride in his family name it is not on account of his extraordinary wealth (Anne says he has many houses, all over England) but rather it stems from his great affection for the history of his ancestors. You and I might say similarly of the Bennets, after all. I have often repeated the tale of Frederick Bennet, who built Longbourn and thrice moved the location of the mistresses’ rooms to please his capricious wife. There is something pleasing about such tales and the journey to Ramsgate (in the barouche box, no less!) was passed by very pleasantly in hearing of long dead de Bourgh’s and their coming from Bordeaux in the early seventeenth century. Claude de Bourgh was the second son of a Comte-- the remnants of whom still exist, I understand, and he came to England because he hated his elder brother. The two branches have never reconciled, not even after hundreds of years! _

_ It rather makes Grandfather Bennet’s lengthy disagreement with Mr. Collins seem like a mere spat, does it not?  _

_ I shall cease now, and write of other, more current, matters for fear of your thinking me odiously dull.  _

_ I suppose life at Longbourn must be far quieter than usual, on account of my being gone and with Lydia now in Brighton. At least, I am assuming that she is there already, she has not written to me since I told her she might have my dress to take with her. I might have protested at length that Mama need not go to the expense of furnishing me with a new wardrobe but her ladyship declares that she is quite determined on the matter. I have discovered, Jane, that she is very used to having her own way and will not be gainsaid. Anne laughed at me when I complained to her that Mama is fond of giving orders and said that  _ _ I _ _ must find it particularly difficult to adjust to. Do you laugh also, I wonder? Or are you even now preparing to write to Anne of my innumerable virtues and perfections?  _

_ If you intend to do so, you must address it to Bamber House within the next fortnight and then from the 18th onwards it must be to Ronleigh House, Wimpole Street-- after  _ _ that _ _ it must be to Matlock where we are to spend a month at the very least-- my Uncle has determined to give a ball in my honour while we are there. I will write to Longbourn of all the details concerning the grand event-- Mama will like to know of my dress and the entries on my dance card, will she not? I am able to face the prospect of being stared at with tolerable equanimity-- I know well that most people who come will only do so because I am an oddity and the rest, who likely do not care in the least, will come to carry favour with either the Fitzwilliams or the De Bourghs. I have decided that Mr. Darcy must permit his sister to join us at least for the opening of the ball and as soon as I have ended this missive to you, I shall begin my campaign to encourage him to do so with a fresh sheet of paper.  _

_ We arrived only yesterday but I have already walked to the sea twice. Anne thinks that Mama is far more tolerant of my exploits than with anyone else and I wonder if she may be right, I returned from my walk this morning with windblown hair and red cheeks and I saw her ladyship considering within herself whether or not I deserved a scolding. I hope that my privileged position lasts for at least as long as we are here for I mean to see the sea every day-- it is a glorious and immense thing, my dear. It stretches out so far and has so many different shades of blue that I am quite enamoured of the place. It is comforting to feel so small in comparison to the wide expanse of water, whatever turmoil I have undergone these last weeks the tides will continue on regardless.  _

_ I cannot say if I do right in relating my next piece of news, Jane-- I cannot decide if I ought to warn you or leave well alone on account of the uncertainty of it. Forgive me if I do wrong in informing you but I believe that it is possible that Mr. B may yet return to Netherfield. There, it is done-- I hope you will not be in an agony of anticipation but I should be a poor sister to you if I did not tell you. My information comes from a good source, I believe. _

_ Give all my love to Papa and Mama, do tell Papa that however much he dislikes writing he  _ _ must _ _ not neglect to do so. I feel quite tearful, to think of you all at present, however much my heart pains me at the receipt of a letter that reminds me of my missing you all, it is far, far worse to receive no letters at all. Tell Mary that I am to go to a concert in London. I will write to her of the new music I hear and if I can, send her some new music for her to practice-- I miss the sounds of her practicing, particularly as if I wish to hear songs at present, I must be the one to perform them, I will convey your sympathies on the subject to my mother and sister.  _

_ I heartily wish, Jane, that I could tell you when we will meet again, that I could look forward to the event and so enjoy the interim more. Only know that this letter carries with it all the love and affection within my heart.  _

_ Elizabeth. _

_ Bamber House, Ramsgate _

_ Dear Mr. Darcy,  _

_ I do hope, sir, that you are not dreadfully shocked upon receiving this letter. Anne and Mama have informed me that there is nothing improper about me writing to my cousins, however odd it may feel to do so. In some respects you do not at all seem like a cousin, you are vastly different to Mr. Collins, for example.  _

_ I adore Bamber House, it is everything that is comfortable and the view from my window is all that prevents me from spending every available hour of the day on the sands. I understand from Anne that you dislike the place, a thing that I cannot comprehend. There must have been countless unpleasant happenings at Pemberley since it was built and none of them suffice to give the Darcy’s any aversion to Derbyshire. If you do not mean to visit the place any more I wish you would sell it to me, Mama assures me that I have, or will have, my own fortune and I do not think I could do any better than to buy this house from you and settle here when Anne inherits Rosings. _

_ You asked me, before you left us, if I would stand up with you at my ball and I fear I was too occupied in not weeping that I neglected to answer you. I  _ _ would _ _ dance with you, sir-- you acquitted yourself well enough at Netherfield in the exercise. I need have no fear that you will embarrass me if I partnered with you but I should very much like to have your assurances that you will allow your sister to attend and also a promise that I may purchase Bamber House, first.  _

_ How highly I do rate myself! Well, Mr. Darcy, if the promise of a dance with me will not persuade you then I shall relate to you the pretty daydream I have had in what I should do with the house, I am of the opinion that each room should papered in the blues of the sea or the yellows of the sand-- how quaint we should seem. I care not that it would be unfashionable but only think how charming the house would look, it would almost be as though we had brought nature inside with us. You must not think I intend to live here alone, Mama would never countenance it-- no, should I refuse to marry a man who would not oblige me by relocating here, I will simply set up a charitable institution for old maids such as myself and they will be quite content herein.  _

_ Do let Miss Darcy come, cousin-- she need not if she does not care for it, but Anne, who quite despises dancing, has said that she would like someone other than Mama to sit with while I am dancing every dance. What an opinion my sister has of me, sir! I slyly asked Mama if she intended there to be a waltz and should we not hire a dancing master to show us the steps. She shook her head at me with so fierce a look that I did not dare to press her any further. I shall see if Richard would like to campaign in my stead.  _

“Are you writing to Darcy, Elizabeth?”   
  
Lizzy turned in her seat to look at Anne, “Yes, I am being productive this afternoon, I have already completed my letter to Jane and am about to close this one. Did you want me for anything? Shall I urge him to bring a great many gentlemen to the ball who must beg for your hand?”    
  
Anne smiled, “I thank you but I have spent a good deal of time in persuading gentlemen that I  _ indeed _ do not wish to dance with them, your plan would quite spoil my efforts.” 

“You really must meet Mary, she assures me that she does not like to dance either-- it is odd for she loves to listen to music, she just will not move at its command. Will Mama dance?”

“I see no reason why she should--” replied Anne, an inflection of surprise in her voice.   
  
“But that is not to say that she should not, is it? Perhaps she may meet a dashing elderly gentleman who will invite her to waltz with him.” 

“Elizabeth, do be serious.”   
  
“Oh, very well, but Mama is handsome enough to have as many dance partners as we do.”   
  
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine from the door of the sitting room, smiling a little at her daughter’s start, “but the benefit of widowhood is that I may decline such activity unless I feel disposed to it. “That is not to say,” she added, “that I have not had to discourage any number of gentlemen since Sir Lewis was buried.”   
  
Elizabeth propped her elbow on the back of her chair and rested her chin on it with great interest, “really Mama? How many? Ought we to have their names, ma’am-- just in case any of them should try to pay court to us in an attempt to make you jealous. I wish you will tell me how one ought to  _ properly _ discourage a gentleman, I was obliged to quit the room to escape from...well never mind who it was.”   
  
Lady Catherine and Anne regarded her steadily in silence and Elizabeth threw up her hands with a spurt of laughter. 

“No, I shall not tell you-- oh my careless tongue-- I had much better finish my letter to Mr. Darcy. Have you any messages you would like me to include, Mama?”

“You discouraged Hubert adequately enough, Lizzy,” offered Anne, quietly amused.

“What an excellent idea, we must commission a supply of vases, ideally sized for a lady’s reticule-- it will be a wonder if any gentleman even dares to ask for an introduction.”

“A hat pin would surely be more practical.”    
  
“How clever you are, Mama,” said Elizabeth admiringly, as her sister laughed openly, “Are there any good shops in Ramsgate, Anne? I must purchase seven sturdy hat pins immediately-- one for each of my sisters, myself and our mother.”

“As you wish, my daughter, but they will not be required, I hope I am able to protect you adequately.” She waited for Lizzy to turn back in her chair and pick up her pen to resume writing before speaking again, “What  _ will _ be required, however, is the name of the so called gentleman who caused you to flee from a room.”

Slowly, Elizabeth laid down her pen and once again turned in her chair.


	26. Chapter 26

“Oh dear!” said Elizabeth, “I very much fear that we are about to embark on our first family quarrel.”

Lady Catherine’s eyebrows rose and Anne’s eyes darted between the two women.    
  
“I see no reason why we should do so, Elizabeth-- you are a sensible girl after all. There can be no need to conceal such information from your own kin.”   
  
Lizzy met her mother’s gaze. Lady Catherine’s look was one of resolution and she was reminded that the lady before her was an entirely different character to Mrs. Bennet. On the subject of Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet’s rancour could be ignored with a little effort and Elizabeth had been secure in the knowledge that whilst Mama might have mentioned the man often, she would have been forgiven eventually. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, on the other hand, was not a woman to be so easily dismissed. 

She chose her words carefully, “I would not seek to do so, Mama, if it were not that the  _ other _ party in the case is married.”

“ _ What?! _ ” cried Lady Catherine, apparently much shocked. Elizabeth looked to Anne, who also appeared to be surprised. “Would you have me believe that you were subjected to the attentions of an already married scoundrel-- I wonder that Mr. Bennet did not call him to account, I  _ certainly _ should have done so.”   
  
Unexpectedly, Elizabeth laughed and rose, holding her both her hands up in protest, “Oh, no--  _ no _ , you have the matter quite,  _ quite _ wrong, madam, the fault of which is mine-- I did not put it at all well. The gentleman in question is  _ now _ married but was not when he asked for my hand. Will that do? He is not a scoundrel or anything so interesting-- it is only that he is not at all clever, besides having a very high opinion of himself and he did not quite believe that my refusal was in earnest. Papa assured him that it was and the matter was settled.” She reached forward and took Lady Catherine’s hands in hers, “you shall not be cross with me, mother, it is in the past. I will promise you that from henceforth, every suitor to my hand will be sent to you. You may peer at them sternly-- have you eyeglasses Mama? I always think that eyeglasses are a wondrous tool for depressing the pretentious-- and you will save me a good deal of trouble in refusing the gentlemen myself.”   
  
Her mother returned the pressure of Elizabeth’s hands, even as she was not entirely satisfied. “My eyesight is exceptionally good, Elizabeth-- all of the Fitzwilliams are known for having good use of their eyes until their years are well advanced. Do not think that I am done with this matter, however-- I shall find out eventually. You will learn, my dear, that I am extraordinarily patient when it is necessary.”   
  
Elizabeth leant in and swiftly kissed her cheek before dropping her hands and moving to stand beside her sister, “I see very clearly that  _ my _ determination comes from  _ you _ . Every day that I am with you and Anne, I wonder how it is that I was so long in believing what was directly before my eyes.” She hesitated and grew serious, “It is not so much that I mind you knowing, Mama-- but rather that I do not think it would be an honourable thing for  _ me _ to be the one to speak of a rejected proposal. There! We shall be done with the subject, I think, and dwell on pleasanter matters.”

Anne, preferring peace, intervened, “Oh yes, Mama. Let us go shopping.”   
  
“You dislike shopping, Anne!” replied her mother, testily-- not too willing to let anything drop before she was done with it. 

“I think that I could enjoy helping Elizabeth choose very sharp hatpins-- and,” she continued, with an apologetic look to her younger sister, “she really ought to have a veil for her bonnet if she is to insist on walking out by the sea every day.”   
  
Willing to redirect her Ladyship at Anne’s leading, Lizzy shook her head with a smile. “Oh no, I dislike them so-- does it matter so much if my nose was a little burnt, Anne? A veil would quite interfere with my enjoyment of walking along the sand with the wind in my face.”   
  
“Anne, Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine, firmly, “we will leave for the shops in twenty minutes and you  _ must _ select a veil-- I will not have either of  _ my _ daughters seen in public with red noses, particularly given that we must be at Matlock in a little over a month for your ball. You  _ must _ have more care, on this subject, I insist that you heed me for I know what is best.” 

“Yes, Mama,” responded both the girls, with every appearance of docility. She nodded, satisfied by such obedient girls and even smiled at them as they left the room arm in arm. It was only after she made her way to her own room and instructed her maid to present her green bonnet and coat that she reflected with any dissatisfaction on the conversation.

To Elizabeth, the three of them going shopping together felt both strange and pleasant. It was useful, certainly, to have two liveried footmen following them down the high street in order to carry whatever purchases they might make and there was no denying that the de Bourgh name commanded the most excellent service in each of the shops. The other de Bourgh ladies however, were rather different to the Bennets. At Longbourn, Jane was the sister she would turn to for more fashionable advice, or to examine more closely any new item that was in from London. If Jane could find anything to admire in an item she was not sparing in her compliments but had a good amount of sense in weighing up value against eventual cost. It was a trait inherited from Mrs. Bennet, who liked pretty things as much as the next lady, but had a surprising amount of sense when it came to avoiding being fleeced by shopkeepers and their ilk. 

Elizabeth smiled when she watched Anne stoop to look more closely at a lace tippet, delicately lifting its edge to evaluate the quality of the work. It evidently did not impress Miss de Bourgh of Rosings Park, for she quickly moved on to other wares offered in the shop. Lizzy glanced over to Lady Catherine, who was instructing the owner of the store in how she might better display the variety of cambric that he had to offer. The man bore this with patience and was rewarded for it by her ladyship’s nod of approval before she crossed the polished wooden floor to her second born.

“We shall naturally go to Lock’s for your bonnets when we reach London, Elizabeth, but if you see anything here that suits your tastes we shall have it boxed up and sent on, it can be made up in town.” 

“Thank you, Ma’am-- I see nothing here that immediately leaps to the eye, perhaps if we are to shop in London I shall find more success there. I do not think my sister will enjoy it though, poor Anne, only Mary is more indifferent in selecting her clothing! It is just as well that we have already found suitable veils at Spilling’s or we should have to declare this expedition a complete loss.”

The bell rang and a new patron stepped in through the door of Pattersons Fine Fabric Shop. Elizabeth was too well mannered to stare at her openly, but could not resist observing her through the corner of her eye. She was a short lady, at least forty years old and so bedecked with frills and furbelows that it was difficult to make out what her shape must be beneath all the ribbons and lace that she sported. 

“Well!” she tittered in a high, improbably girlish pitch, on seeing the other customers of the shop-- “Lady Catherine de Bourgh! What do you do in Ramsgate of all places? I had heard that you could not be drawn from Kent but for the occasional trip to London. Oh but you must remember  _ me _ ! We last met in Mrs. Frond’s home--  _ Flora Kendleford-Flitby! _ ” She spoke to Lady Catherine but her eyes were taking in every detail of Elizabeth’s appearance. Anne, rounding a display of blond lace, came to stand very close to her sister. It was evident that whoever this woman may be, she had read the notice in the London paper regarding her and she did not conceal her curiosity at all well.   


Her ladyship deigned to nod, “How do you do, Mrs. Kendleford-Flitby, it is some time since I have seen you. No doubt you have heard of my youngest daughter’s happy reappearance already. We are come to Ramsgate for only a fortnight before journeying on to London. I do not believe you have been introduced to either of my children, madam? Mrs. Kendleford-Flitby, I present my eldest daughter Miss de Bourgh and my youngest, Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh.” The two sisters made their curtseys and were smiled upon by the older woman.    
  
“How  _ charming _ , Lady Catherine-- I had not hoped that I would have the pleasure of encountering you like this, you know. News of Miss Elizabeth’s restoration was all over town you know and the very same morning that the notice appeared in the paper I paid a visit to Mrs. Brent in Bedford Square, do you know Mrs. Brent, Lady Catherine?” She asked hopefully, “Her husband is Admiral Brent, only he has retired from the navy now and means not to go to sea again, which Mrs. Brent is not glad of, for it means he will be at home ever so much more.” She tittered again and Elizabeth flicked a glance at Anne and then at her mother. “But anyway, I called upon Mrs. Brent and she immediately asked me if I had seen the notice and did I know anything of it, she knew, you see that I had the pleasure of meeting your ladyship at the soiree that dear Mrs. Frond gave-- three seasons ago, was it not? I, of course, said that I knew  _ nothing _ of the matter whatsoever, why I had not even known of the existence of  _ two _ de Bourgh daughters, only Miss de Bourgh-- and I said as much. But how delightful, to meet you again, your ladyship, here in Ramsgate of all places, I congratulate you on your good news. I am here for my son's health, you know. My poor dear Robert has been advised to have some sea air by the doctors and so we removed from London. Perhaps you will meet him, we have been here for almost a month now and…” she trailed off uselessly, then began again, “but it is so very delightful to meet you, as I have said.”

“I do not know any person named  _ Brent,”  _ answered Lady Catherine, in tones that gave little doubt in what light she viewed the name, “we are not long in Ramsgate, Mrs. Kendleford-Flitby, perhaps we will have the pleasure of meeting your ailing son some other time. I trust that he will have a swift recovery, I have never held with young men idling their time away with illness-- they had much better be improving themselves with their studies. You are ready to move on to the next shop, my daughters? Very well then, come. You will see to that cambric display, Mr. Patterson, there are few people in the world with an eye the equal of mine, you would do well to heed my advice. Good day, Mrs. Kendleford-Flitby.” 

With that, she nodded once more and swept from the shop, her daughters trailing in her wake. Once the door was shut behind them and they stood on the street, Lizzy quietly laughed and leaned toward her sister as she linked her arm comfortably in hers. 

“How  _ nice _ it is here, I am glad we came-- look Anne, I believe that I can almost glimpse the sea through that alleyway, there is a sliver of blue visible.”   
  
“It is clearly grey, Elizabeth-- I do not know why you must persist in thinking it blue,” answered her sister, half-seriously.    
  
“It looks blue to me, perhaps it is a different colour to everyone. To me, it shall always be blue, for I read about it in books long before I first laid eyes on the reality of it and I shall not allow myself the disappointment of admitting that it may be any other colour. There, we are well clear of poor Mr. Pattersons shop now. How long do you suppose it will be before Mrs. Kendleford-Flitby exits the shop and spreads the word that we are here. Do I wrong her perhaps? No, I am sure that I do not-- I have never met a woman so clearly pleased to be beforehand with news.”

Anne nodded in agreement, a little out of breath as they walked along, “It is very likely that she recognised the livery of the footmen awaiting us on the street and could not resist coming inside to see what gossip there was to be had. It will be worse in London,” she added with a sigh.

“We shall have to grow adept in exiting such situations Anne, you must assist me in practicing. Oh, Mama! I am reminded that I should like to purchase more music if you do not object, I am determined that when Mr. Darcy and I meet again he  _ must _ be astonished at my improvement. May we stop?”    
  
  


  
  


  
  



	27. Chapter 27

_ Winthrope, London _

_ Dear Elizabeth,  _

_ I trust that this missive will reach you before you quit Bamber House for London, your mother informed me of her proposed schedule but has been known to deviate from her stated intentions in the past, however rare such a deviation may be.  _

_ It pleases me that you are content in Ramsgate, Georgiana and I were used to enjoying our time there very much whensoever we had an opportunity to visit it. Pemberley must always be first in our affections, regardless of intrusive memories-- or perhaps because of them. Your point is well taken, cousin-- it does not follow any sort of logic to avoid a house on account of an unhappy occurrence within its walls and yet, whilst last summer remains so strongly in our minds, it shall not be visited. Perhaps  _ _ your _ _ happiness at Bamber House will coax us from our reticence and we shall all descend upon the seaside together one year, if only for Georgiana to declare, in the strongest of terms, that you shall not bedeck the house in the same colour as the sea. Anne has been writing directly to her and your sisterly dispute as to whether it be grey or blue has both alarmed and amused my sister. I have assured her that, with all the difficulty having been already accomplished in your finding one another, none of the de Bourgh family would permit such a trivial argument to come between you. She may have been reluctant to accept the truth of this, not yet having the privilege of meeting you, but she readily agreed that our aunt would not permit even the possibility of it. Perhaps you might write to her also, as Anne does, and thus make any natural shyness of disposition (hers, not yours) more easily dispensed with at the time of your ball. _

_ However much the want of your society has been felt, it has been pleasant to see my sister again. I felt, keenly, the sorrow that arose from the separation between you and Anne and so I have endeavoured to show Georgiana, how grateful I am for her. It has, in turn, led to a greater openness between us-- for you will readily comprehend that a brother who is more than ten years the elder is not a being easily confided in-- but regardless of this, the increased intimacy has proved beneficial for the both of us.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ We speak often of you, Georgiana being so curious about a long lost cousin that she knew only vague details about. I have sought to protect her from the sorrows of life, Elizabeth-- perhaps a little too much, for her innocence as to the evils of human nature served her very ill in the summer. I wonder, if had circumstances been different, would you have advised me to impart some useful knowledge-- I know not what, we can never know. Georgiana’s perspective on  _ _ your _ _ situation has proved interesting, and I have wondered if I might have understood your unhappiness rather better if I had brought her with me to Rosings this year. She asked me if, on your journey to Matlock, you intended to pass through Hertfordshire and was surprised by my not having thought of it. In plain terms, she said that to expect you to dispense with any fond memory of your childhood home borders on cruelty. She added that there may come a day when her husband will remove her from Pemberley but that no power on earth will prevent her from remembering it nor will any one keep her from visiting as often as she feels the need to. You are aware, are you not, that Georgiana is of a timid disposition-- that she would, ordinarily, willingly give way to anyone's feelings, assuming that they were stronger than her own? To hear her speak so forthrightly, so strongly, made my heart rejoice. She is not forever damaged in spirit by a wicked man and it has done me a great deal of good to realise it.  _

_ You speak your mind so openly, Elizabeth, that I hardly dare to suggest that you may have been reticent in expressing your wants. You who have so charmingly demanded my house (which I will not sell but would readily give, only you must take with it my other lands, properties and my name also) can surely have no scruple in requesting from your own mother any detour from her intended route north.  _

_ And yet, the thought of it has been troubling me since Georgiana raised it. It is possible that you, for the sake of being agreeable, might make less of your wish to visit Longbourn in order to please a vulnerable sister and mother. On no account must your feelings take a secondary place, my dear, I encourage you to state your wishes, whatever they might be. You will find that your mother and your sister wish you happy, as do I.  _

_ Georgiana and I are to depart London before your arrival here. I have long been needed in Derbyshire, my steward, a very able, honest man, has directly requested my presence there in two separate letters. I will selfishly take Miss Darcy with me, however much an introduction is desired, I must be the one to introduce-- there is too much passed between us for me to allow anyone else the pleasure of arranging your first meeting.  _

_ Having gained your agreement to my leading you out at your ball, I find myself far more amenable to the suggestion that Georgiana attend. She is ignorant of it at present but I have given orders at the mantua makers that she should have her first ballgown made up ready-- Lady Catherine will look over it to ensure its suitability and I trust her to deliver it to Derbyshire safely. I took the greatest of care in my letter to her that she should not be left with the impression that I view her, in any way, like a postilion, but should she take offence I charge you to smooth things over. _

_ Richard remains in London for the present and will no doubt present himself when you arrive at the de Bourgh townhouse. I have little hope of his behaving himself but I can rely on you to bring him to heel when it is necessary.  _

_ I wish you a happy time in London, Elizabeth and look forward to your coming to Derbyshire. _

_ Your devoted servant,  _

_ Fitzwilliam Darcy _

“Well!” exclaimed Lizzy, dropping her hands to her lap, the elegantly written letter clutched tightly in her hands, “of  _ all _ the ways in which a man might...but perhaps I have read it wrong-- mayhap he did not  _ mean _ it as I have read it.” The letter was duly raised again and examined carefully, “ _ No _ , I still cannot make him out. Well, Fitzwilliam Darcy, I am not a coward, if you may tease  _ me _ about an accidental proposal that you shall certainly expect nothing less in return.”    
  
“Lizzy?” enquired a puzzled Anne, “what  _ are _ you speaking of?”   
  
Elizabeth, who had quite forgotten the presence of her sister, started and laughed.    
  
“Oh, Anne! How silly you will think me, I had forgotten that you were here-- forgive me, dearest!”   
  
“It is hardly a surprise to me, Elizabeth, you have thought of nothing else but your letter since Prosser brought it in for you to read.” She watched with interest as her sister blushed and she further ventured a tease, “do not let Mama see your cheeks so pink or she will find out that you went walking this morning without your veil again.”    


The blush deepened but Anne’s object was achieved and Lizzy laughed again, “are you going to bear tales to our mother? I wonder that you can have known it, for I was wearing the wretched thing when I left the house  _ and _ when I returned. Very well, by all means, tell Mama-- we may as well catch up on all the lost opportunities we have had in getting one another into trouble. Kitty was the resident tale bearer at Longbourn, she even annoyed Mama by the habit until she outgrew the trait.”   
  
“I have no intention of doing any such thing!” said Anne, a little indignantly, “if I were to, I should have to reserve the occasion for telling her that you and our handsome cousin have an odd habit of asking one another for marriage.”

“ _Anne_!” Elizabeth bit her lip, “ _Pray_ do not. It would be excessively awkward if Mama took it seriously-- no doubt Mr. Darcy did not mean it, it is but a badly put turn of phrase.” She was rewarded for her convincing argument by Anne's rare spurt of derisive laughter.   
  
“Clearly you have had very few letters from Darcy, he does not write badly-- he may occasionally _speak_ badly, but he does not commit such error on paper. If he has proposed to you he means precisely what he says. I will of course, not breathe a word to Mama.”  
  
“You are very good,” said Elizabeth, through her teeth, “ and in return for your kindness I will not tell her that you are longing to meet young Mr. Kendleford-Flitby in order to ascertain whether or not to encourage his advances.”

Anne huffed a little, “You are quite out there, Mrs. Kendleford-Flitby clearly feels that you are the more likely match for her son, judging by the evaluating look she was giving you when she called this morning.”   
  
“She ought to have evaluated Mama instead.”

“Yes, I do not think she was pleased.”

“Pleased! I should think not-- I wonder that the lady did not swallow her plumpers in fear, what with the look Mama sent her way when she directly asked how it was that we came to be separated.”   
  
“She is vulgar, Lizzy-- do not let her trouble you. We will leave for London in two days and you will not set eyes on her again if Mama has any say in the matter.”

“Which she does,” smiled Elizabeth, amused by how readily Anne was able to dismiss the matron who had descended upon them that morning.

“Which, naturally, she does,” agreed Anne.

“Mr. Darcy has invited me to correspond with his sister,” said Elizabeth, looking once again to her letter.

“You had better do so, particularly if you intend to have him.”

Elizabeth looked up quickly, there was something not quite kind in Anne’s tone just then and she puzzled over it.    
  
“You like our cousin-- do you not? Oh! You are not-- you do not...oh dear.”   
  
“Mama does not care for incomplete sentences, Elizabeth. Elucidate.”   
  
“Are you... _ very _ fond of Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth, who had never yet felt the sting of jealousy toward her beautiful sister Jane and had never once resented Lydia’s incomprehensible popularity with military men felt decidedly hot and uncomfortable with the thought that Anne might harbour deeper care for their tall cousin than she had previously suspected. Mr. Wickham may be a scoundrel, but that did not follow that every word he uttered was a lie, did it?    
  
Anne looked surprised, “I think you would find cause to quarrel with me if I said I was not fond of him, Elizabeth. He is a fine gentleman and has been unfailingly kind to Mama. My Uncle Darcy was the same before he passed away.”   
  
“No…” Elizabeth heaved a breath, “I do not mean...like  _ that _ . Oh, I had better ask directly.”   
  
“It might be for the best if you did. Come here and hold my hand-- what has you so agitated?”   
  
“When I was at Longbourn, Mr. Wickham called on us fairly often.  _ Before _ I left Hertfordshire for the Hunsford, he mentioned that Her Ladyship was Mr. Darcy’s aunt and that you...that you were intended to be his bride. I had forgotten it, until just now. Is it true? I hadn’t thought of it, only...you sounded so--”

“Jealous?” 

“Yes. I suppose so. Do tell me, Anne-- have I unknowingly interfered with a long-standing arrangement?”

“Mr. Wickham is not to be trusted, his lies are the dangerous sort of lies, ones that have their basis in truth. No, do not pull away, Lizzy. There is no need for you to look so downcast, you really must learn the patience to wait for the whole piece of information to be imparted before rushing off to lick your wounds. Sisterly advice, my dear-- do not take offence.”   
  
“Why is sisterly advice almost always unsolicited?” complained Elizabeth, but she stayed where she was beside Anne and returned the pressure on her hand.   
  
“Probably because I care for you too dearly to avoid telling you the unequivocal truth. Mama talked, in the past, of an alliance between Rosings and Pemberley. I believe Aunt Darcy was amenable to the idea, she and Mama were so very fond of each other. Elizabeth-- look at me.  _ Look _ at me-- the plan was abandoned when it became apparent that my health is...not good.” Anne’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper, “Mama does not speak of it, I do not think she could ever support the thought of my not outliving her but...I am not like you in energy, I am not like Mama as you are. I have no claim on Darcy saving only that of familial affection, I regard him very highly.”

Elizabeth shook her head, as though denying what had just been told her. Gravely she put aside her letter and clasped Anne’s hands in both of hers. “You are not in any imminent danger, are you? No, you could not be or Mama would not have planned so much travelling,” Elizabeth tilted her head in consideration, looking very serious, “but you have been wearier-- have you not?”   
  
“I am not dying, Elizabeth. It is merely that I do not have the same strength of body as others. A cold, easily dismissed as a nuisance by some, will exhaust me for a matter of weeks. My comment about not outliving Mama was not intended to frighten you, merely to point out that I would not do well as a wife. If the process of bringing a child into the world did not kill me, I believe it would weaken me sufficiently that I’d not long survive afterwards.”

“I do not like that I have been ignorant of this. I realise that it ought to have been obvious enough to me that I should have asked but Mama might have mentioned it.”  
  
“Why would Mama speak of it now when she is now so happy? She has pushed it to the farthest recesses of her mind and if it were to be spoken of, she would forbid me to become ill.”  
  
“So too do I!” said Elizabeth fiercely-- “I shall be a better sister to you, and take very good care of you.”   
  
“The pleasure of having our family reunited has done much for me, oblige me by not fussing, dear-- only be your cheerful self and speak of happy things and I daresay I will do well enough.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I was ill, then I got stuck on this chapter and then I got too busy to finish it.
> 
> You will probably be pleased to know that for the month of March I expect to have lots more time for writing due to a change of circumstances for that month. I am hoping for at least 4 evenings a week of laptop time. YAY! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting as ever! I am about to go and answer all of your comments from the last chapter-- again, sorry about the delay. :)

To Elizabeth, London seemed to be as it ever was. Granted, the carriage in which she travelled was a good deal more spacious and certainly, Mama’s servants were efficient and respectful, yet comfort aside, the de Bourgh crest that was emblazoned on the door of the travelling coach did not immediately cause all travellers on the busy streets of the capital to bow and give way. 

This delay, whilst irksome to the other de Bourgh ladies, did not overly trouble Elizabeth, however little she cared for sitting idly behind a cart bearing bags of coal, it gave her the opportunity to look about her and observe the neighbourhood in which the de Bourgh townhouse stood.    
  


Lady Catherine, usually a ready flow of information whenever her daughter wished to know something, was strangely silent on the subject of the house itself. She briefly answered Lizzy’s inquiry as to the sort of street it was.    
  
“It is not one of the more fashionable streets, but I for one have observed that  _ those _ sorts of neighbourhoods are too often filled with persons of inferior quality. I will say this for your de Bourgh ancestors, they have held property in London for far longer than many members of the ton. Quality, Elizabeth, is a thing that endures far longer than the merely popular.”

Her daughter repressed a laugh and pressed a little further, “But what sort of house is it, Mama? Do you spend a good deal of time in town? You must instruct me as to the extent to which I must feel attached to the place.”   
  
Anne, who observed Lady Catherine’s incredulous look, answered in her mother’s stead, “Mama resided here after her marriage--until I was born, Elizabeth-- then removed to Rosings. I have not been here above two or three times...we are not at all fond of the place, not that we should dictate how  _ you _ must feel about it.”

Lizzy sighed, “I suppose I am to make up my own mind then-- ah, the cart must have turned off, for we are at last increasing our pace. I was about to suggest that we had much better walk to Ronleigh House.” 

Lady Catherine frowned at Elizabeth but all she said was, “I am sure you must be jesting, Elizabeth.” 

“I was indeed, ma’am-- my Aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, made me see that I must not treat London as I do the country on my first extended stay in Gracechurch Street. I hope that we do not stay too long here, after having walked out every day whilst we were at Ramsgate I do believe I have become quite spoiled.”   
  
“You can always walk in the parks, Lizzy-- Richmond is not so very far away from here.”   
  
“No, but I do not think a London Park, followed by three or four footmen is at all the same as a good muddy trudge across fields…I suppose Purcell and at  _ least _ two others will accompany me whenever I desire to walk out, Mama?”   
  
“At least,” said her mother dryly, with the shadow of a smile about her mouth. 

“We are here, Lizzy,” announced Anne, as the horses drew up outside a large house that stood near the end of the cobbled street. 

The door opened and stiffly Lady Catherine alighted from the carriage, she did not look altogether pleased to be there. Elizabeth thought that her demeanour was one who had set herself to endure necessity. 

The servants, headed by the butler and housekeeper had arrayed themselves in a neat line in the hall. Lizzy raised her brows a little to see so few of them-- Bamber House had twice as many. 

Lady Catherine de Bourgh handed her parasol to her ladies maid and nodded in response to the butlers brief welcome.    
  
“Jones-- I have already written of my youngest daughter’s restoration to the house of de Bourgh, I desire that she be treated with the same deference as Miss de Bourgh. Miss Elizabeth is currently being served by Wainright but only temporarily, we will engage a permanent ladies maid whilst we are in town. You may all go.” 

Once the staff had departed, Lizzy felt free to look around her. The walls of the hallway were papered with the most hideous pattern that she had ever seen-- the dark blue stripes against the red background gave the room a looming appearance that was not helped by the faded green velvet of the window dressings.

She remained silent, however, and was led by up the narrow stairs by Anne and into various rooms, each as ugly as the others. When they entered a small sitting room near the front of the house that overlooked the street, she could not help but raise questioning brows to her sister.    
  
Lady Catherine, looking about her and apparently satisfied that all was in order, nodded and departed with the information that she intended to retire to her room for an hour or so to rest.    
  
The door shut and Lizzy’s curiosity burst forth, “Anne?”    
  
Her sister sighed and sat down on a shabby looking window seat. “I know-- it is ugly is it not?”    
  
“It is not at all like Rosings-- I do not believe that Mama can have had much of a hand in the furnishings.”   
  
Her belief was corrected, “Oh, she did. I think this house was a fit of revenge for her. She has never told me this herself but I was informed that her first year of marriage was a trying one. Sir Lewis preferred London and spent much of his time here.”   
  
“That does  _ not _ explain the oddity of the decorations.”    
  
“I do not know what happened but I believe there was some argument between them here, Sir Lewis went to stay... _ elsewhere _ in London, with a...well-- it was not a respectable establishment.” Anne said delicately, “He sent Mama an insolent message, relayed by the butler-- not the present one-- and told her that she must take her self off to Rosings by the time he returned. She was willing to go by then but dismissed all of the staff first and gave orders to a dozen tradesmen that she wanted the house entirely repapered. Sir Lewis arrived back here a week later to find that all of the old furniture had been burnt and that there were no members of staff that he recognised.”

Elizabeth listened thoughtfully, “Mama is unique,” she said after a moment’s consideration, “I suppose he was very angry.”

“Yes-- I suppose so too, but I do not know anything else.  _ You _ were born later on.”   
  
“I see,” said Elizabeth, “I must say, it is a grim sort of place. Mama never decided to make it pleasanter again once Sir Lewis died?”

“She prefers Rosings-- we do not come here often.”   
  
Elizabeth’s bedchamber was a little less offensive to the eyes, perhaps Mama had not had sufficient time to properly ensure that it was so ugly as the public rooms of the house. Still, Elizabeth mused as she examined the once red wallpaper if her intention had been to put off any guests Sir Lewis wished to invite, she must surely have achieved her aim. 

She took up her reticule and once again found Mr. Darcy’s most recent letter to her. She had not responded but would need to soon. Elizabeth found that she wished to write to him, regardless of wondering how to answer his accidental proposal.  _ He _ must have seen how strange a house this was and have wondered at the cause of it. Perhaps he might be in possession of more information than Anne but it hardly mattered even if he was not, Elizabeth wanted to write to him of all her impressions-- secure in the knowledge that he would read them and that he wanted to hear from her.   
  
For a brief, undisciplined moment, her imagination took flight and she imagined what sort of argument she and Darcy might have to have in order for her to react as Mama had done. The thought of quarrelling with her cousin so violently displeased her. She returned the letter to her reticule and scolded herself. 

“Mr. Darcy will have a serene and happy marriage-- there will be no cross words or anything of that sort. He will probably marry a very good sort of girl and be so utterly in love with that he will always give her own way in everything.”   
  
_ That _ thought did not please her at all and she frowned. She was still frowning when Lady Catherine entered the room.    
  
“Mama! I had thought that you were resting.”   
  
“I am rested enough, daughter. How do you like your room?”   
  
She watched with interest as Lizzy opened her mouth to respond politely but quickly closed it again, considering her response. Evidently, Elizabeth de Bourgh was too honest to speak commonplace falsehoods.    
  
“It is…certainly well proportioned, Mama.”

“We need only remain here long enough for you to meet a few families and your wardrobe to be made up. Perhaps it is time for the house to be set to rights again. Should you enjoy choosing new colours and furnishings for it?”   
  
“I will certainly offer my opinions, Mama. If you wish to implement them then that is up to you.” 

Lady Catherine sat down, a little heavily, on a chair beside the bed. “This house is to make up part of your dowry, Elizabeth. Rosings will belong to Anne and her own funds have long been accounted for.”  
  
“I suppose no one expected my reappearance.”  
  
“Just so. My brother Matlock will likely provide a sum in addition to this house also. He wrote that it is a subject he wishes to discuss when we arrive at Matlock.”

Elizabeth’s maid entered the room after a soft tap on the door and presented her with a silver plate. 

“A letter for Miss Elizabeth arrived this morning, your ladyship.” She then dipped a curtsy and left the room at Lady Catherine’s nod of dismissal. 

Lizzy took it and glanced the front, “it is from Jane. I have been wondering if Mr. Bingley did return to Netherfield after all.”   
  
“This same gentleman whom you and Darcy were quarrelling about at Rosings?”   
  
Elizabeth smiled, “I never quarrel, Mama-- I merely pointed out the error of my cousin’s ways.”   
  
“That, my dear, sounds rather like something I might say.”   
  
“Mayhap we are becoming more like one another the more time we spend in one another’s company. I wonder if they would find me much changed at Longbourn.”   
  
“I should think it inevitable, Elizabeth.”    
  
“I had rather hoped that you might say they would certainly not find any alteration at all.”   
  
“Experience, surroundings and position in society must necessarily have an effect, it is not a cause for lament. Take, for example, your performance on the pianoforte-- is your improvement not to be commended?”   
  
Elizabeth waved this away, “Had I put myself to the trouble I could have improved that in Hertfordshire-- tell me frankly, Mama, do  _ you _ find that my character has shifted since I first saw you at Rosings?”   
  
Lady Catherine, with a rare show of affection, leant forward to lay a cool hand on Elizabeth’s cheek. “I am not the person to ask, my own feelings then were too agitated-- as were yours-- to form a sound judgement. Ask Darcy in your next letter, you have not quarrelled I trust? I note that there have been fewer missives between you.”   
  
“No, no-- nothing like that. I have been backward in answering his last, not having a ready answer you see. I ought to write, and I shall. I will read Jane’s letter first though, perhaps it will include something of interest to him.”   
  
“There is paper aplenty in the library. You will find that room a little less-- well, my late husband was not a reader, which is a pity for it might have done his mind some good. It is not difficult to find, it is situated toward the back of the house on this floor.” She rose from her chair and made her way to the door.    
  
“Am I to open doors at random in order to discover it, Mama?” Elizabeth laughed.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh paused in her step and sent her daughter an odd look, “it is your house, Elizabeth--you must do as you please.”   
  
Still smiling, Elizabeth opened her letter. 

_ Longbourn _

_ My Dearest Lizzy, _

_ Be assured that we are all well at Longbourn, although the ache of missing your company has not diminished, we are trying to become accustomed to the new normality of your not being by. It is certainly different in the house without you or Lydia present. Maria Lucas has benefited from Kitty’s loneliness and they have begun walking out together as often as they may. Maria has even persuaded Kitty to try her hand at drawing and I do believe that with a little guidance she may prove to be far more accomplished than any of the rest of us Bennet sisters.  _

_ I have attempted to draw Mary out a little, she was in danger of becoming solely focused on her books and her music. She seemed to be glad, however, when I invited her into the still room with me one morning and she is rapidly becoming a willing companion. It makes me feel sorry for having neglected her previously but she does not show any inclination to resentment.  _

_ Mama is a little more animated than she has been, and she takes great pleasure in taking your letters to our neighbours who desire very much to know how you get on. You will laugh about your vanity being flattered Lizzy, but you ought to know that when one of us receives any post from you all other activity ceases and we all gather around to hear whatever you have to say.  _

_ Papa is always particularly pleased whenever you should send a long one and will remain with us to discuss your news very pleasantly. Kitty has asked me most particularly to relate that you must write after your ball and give ever so many details. Perhaps surprisingly Papa also wishes to know how the evening unfolds but insists that you do not spend half a page describing your gown. I believe that he was teasing, but I have faithfully passed on the message regardless, have I not?  _

_ I wished, most especially, to thank you for the kind warning that Mr. Bingley may return to Netherfield. Your source, it turns out, was quite correct for his servants opened up the house on Tuesday, on the Wednesday he arrived himself and by Thursday he called on us.  _

_ Oh my dearest sister, will you laugh to hear that I feared he knew all of my heart when he looked at me? That he saw all my sorrows of the last year and felt, instinctively, that my whole being was the more joyous for his smiling at me?  _

_ He happened to catch my eye after the preliminaries were done and came and sat beside me, asking most especially how I was managing without you. His sisters have been in Scarborough but are now returned to London, I do not know if the relationship between them is quite what it once was, he did not look cheerful when I enquired after them and so I did not wish to pain him by pressing. You may encounter them while you are in London, Mary hopes that Miss Bingley has not heard of your finding your family. I hesitate to write it but Kitty made Papa laugh by suggesting that you might cut Miss Bingley should you ever meet her in a public place. I was very much shocked by the suggestion and tried to reprove her for it but I do not think I got on very well for all she would say was that she was sorry for how unlikely a scenario it was.  _

_ Mr. Bingley is to dine with us on Monday, which has pleased Mama immensely-- she has been composing a menu for the occasion and has twice sent back to the fishmonger to change the fish course. _

_ I shall close by declaring that, as ever, you are constantly in our minds-- Mama has not once allowed ragout to appear on the table, given your aversion to it. I would not have you believe yourself to be forgotten, Lizzy-- not even as the weeks turn into months since we have last beheld you in the flesh.  _

_ With all my love,  _

_Jane._ _  
___  
  



	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, March has commenced and I said that productivity would increase. I am abandoning any type of schedule for this month and will post whenever I get a chapter done. Hopefully, that will be rather more often than it has been! 
> 
> It is shortish but necessary. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also-- please note that the only place I am currently posting stories in progress is on A03. I would be grateful for any heads up if any fellow JAFF obsessive sees my work anywhere else. 
> 
> Many thanks!

_ Ronleigh House _

_ Dear Cousin Fitzwilliam,  _

_ I cannot give you an answer to your kind proposal sir as there is the small matter of  _ _ my _ _ having the prior claim in having asked first. It would be most improper, would it not, for me to accept or decline any offer of marriage when there is already a proposition left hanging. Do you remember how you teased me for it on that morning walk we took at Rosings? No indeed, Mr. Darcy, you must answer me first and you may depend upon it, that I expect as much graciousness in your response as if you were a delicately reared young lady. No doubt Miss Darcy will be able to offer you advice, it is a vital part of any young ladies education.  _

_ I do not advise you sir, to apply to my mother for advice for she is even now composing a blistering scold intended for your eyes only. We drove out to the dressmakers this morning, Ostensibly Anne came to be a support to me -- but I rather suspect that she wished to laugh at what she knew would be a full three hours of being pinned and measured. The measuring did not take so very long but the true ordeal came in being presented with card after card of ideas that must be accepted or dismissed. Mama insisted upon discussing each and every detail thoroughly and I have only ever met the like of her for energy once before. Mrs. Bennet would have enjoyed the expedition very much and I have faithfully recounted in my last letter to her every detail regarding lace and trimmings and the relative merits of each material, Mama will enjoy that. By the time it was time to leave Madame Joubert’s establishment, her ladyship was intent upon next visiting the milliners while we had the decisions of dress fresh in our minds. Anne grinned ever so widely at my groan but I had not the heart to disappoint our mother. She does not lament over Anne’s indifference to matters of dress but she was clearly pleased at the prospect of her having at least one daughter whom she could shop for without complaint.  _

_ But I digress, I must tell you why Mama is so very cross with you. As we were about to depart, Anne recollected that you had asked Mama to glance over Georgiana’s gown for my ball and reminded us that we must not leave the shop so very soon. (!) The shop assistant was sent off to fetch the unfinished gown while we sat and waited. When it was carried in and laid on the table for inspection Mama well nigh quivered with indignation. A scarlet red dress, Mr. Darcy, is not in the least bit suitable for a young lady of my cousin’s station in life, particularly one cut so low as the dreadful spectacle we were shown. It was not so much that the dress was in need of a lace tucker, sir, but rather that there was not much material in which to tuck one in. I had little notion that you were so very liberal in your guardianship, cousin.  _

_ Mama bade us avert our eyes, which of course we did whenever she looked in our direction, and she is deeply offended that her precious daughters should have seen such a scandalous sight, clearly intended for a particular class of lady that Mama declined to specify. Apparently the very air around us was corrupted by this red gown and Madame Joubert ought to be ashamed of herself by even consenting to stitch it together.  _

_ She was on the verge of declaring that not a penny of de Bourgh money would be spent here (a calamity, sir, given the three hours of labour I had spent there) when Anne had the blessed forethought to feel a little faint. My sister recovered enough to glower darkly at me when I suggested that her sensibilities must have been outraged enough to make her feel ill. Mama was distracted then and we left the shop and found the carriage.  _

_ The number of parties we have attended since being in London has made me long for the serenity of Rosings again. Tell me, is the north less populated than London? Is Matlock overrun by people who seem to want to stare at one and form an opinion of whether or not one is a fraudulent adventuress? If it is not, then only say the word and I will steal out in the dead of night and board the next stagecoach that I can find.  _

_ You would not believe, Mr. Darcy, how very rude the Polite World can be. Or given your evident dislike of society in Meryton, perhaps you would. We attended a soiree two evenings ago at Carleton House. I do not quite know what I expected but it was  _ _ not _ _ to overhear myself blatantly discussed. It is impossible, I gathered from the strangers standing nearby, for me to be the daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh-- I must certainly be guilty of gross deceit. Their evidence for such an assertion was unclear to me, perhaps they did not like the manner in which my new maid did my hair. You will have to take direction from me, Mr. Darcy, and accept without question that I looked exceedingly tolerable that evening. Mama thought so at least, and she is never wrong. _

_ I was never more glad of Richard-- he had no sooner arrived than he came and found me, loudly declared that he had missed his little cousin Lizzy, kissed me on both cheeks and whisked me away to meet rather friendlier folk. I did not look back to see if they had the decency to look chagrined but I uncharitably hope that they did.  _

_ Yesterday evening we dined with the Routledge’s and encountered the Hurst family with Miss Bingley. She seemed very surprised to meet me again and is singularly ill-informed as to the developments since last November. If I recall correctly from evenings at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley is not the most effective correspondent, so perhaps she may be forgiven that. I can only suppose that she was surprised to see me there for Miss Bingley addressed me, in tones of blank astonishment, as ‘Miss Eliza Bennet’ which offended Mama and Anne. Mrs. Routledge, whom I must say, I liked very much, smoothed things over well enough by making a jest of it. Miss Bingley has been in Scarborough apparently and therefore must be excused for not knowing the latest news from the first families in Town.  _

_ I do not think Miss Bingley was especially pleased for me, Mr. Darcy. I suppose I ought to confess that I was irritated by her tone of voice when  _ _ she _ _ declared that it was ‘impossible’ for me to be Elizabeth de Bourgh and so I retaliated by asking if she had seen my  _ _ very _ _ dearest of cousins, Fitzwilliam Darcy, of late. I hope that you do not mind me saying that, I cannot find it in myself to be too sorry for she turned the most glorious shade of red.  _

_ The Hursts did not stay long after dinner and I suppose it is just as well that they were rather lower down the table than us for it prevented any extensive conversation.  _

_ If it were not for the fact that my sister is very well pleased to be in Hertfordshire, I should write to her and insist that she should have a season in London-- I know full well that I look upon her with partial eyes but I have not seen the equal to Jane for beauty since I have been here. I do not deny that there are many beautiful ladies about, all finely dressed and polished but it seems that Jane outshines every single one of them that I have heard commended for their being a beauty.  _

_ I received a delightful missive from Jane on my arrival at Ronleigh House, (by the by, do you know the story of how it came to be so dreadfully decorated? Anne only knows snippets and I had thought to apply to you for further information). Mr. Bingley has indeed returned to Netherfield and my mind is quite made up that very soon I shall receive a letter bearing the happiest of news for Jane. I shall worry for her less if she has her own joy to feel, rather than her worrying over my contentment. I shall engage to write to you as soon as  _ _ I _ _ am written to-- is it gossip, I wonder, to be desirous of passing on that which is good and pleasant? You will allow me my triumphant tone, will you not, that I must surely be before you in the hearing of an announcement first? _

_ Anne, who seemed to know immediately that I am writing to you, desires me to pass on her thanks to you for a rather more interesting shopping trip than she had anticipated. I may laugh, but I sincerely do pity you Mama’s letter, my  _ _ very _ _ dearest of cousins.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Elizabeth _

  
  
  



	30. Chapter 30

Lizzy entered the drawing-room at Ronleigh House with a frown on her face.   
  
“Mama, Anne and I were just stepping into Hatchards book store this morning and I am almost certain I saw youngest my sister Lydia.”   
  
“Well, Elizabeth? What of it? It may be that she wished to purchase Lord Byron’s newest collection, as you have.” Lady Catherine, who had been designing the menus for the week, gave her attention once more to her task but then paused, “I trust that she at least acknowledged you?”   
  
“She did not see me, Mama-- Lydia only sets foot in a book store if forced. I saw her, or I thought I did, in a carriage on the street outside. I am… well at the time I should have quite definitely said that it was she but _now_ I wonder if there were only a passing likeness and the product of my imagination.” She shook her head at herself. 

Practically minded, Lady Catherine asked, “Did you recognise the carriage or her companions?”

“No, not at all-- it was a fleeting glimpse and I only saw the lady and a gentleman. Do feel at liberty to tell me roundly that I am dwelling too much upon a trifle, mother-- Anne has already done so.”  
  
“Does Anne’s description of the lady fit with your own impressions?”   
  
Anne answered, “I was looking the other way, Mama-- and I did not tell you roundly, Lizzy, I _merely_ pointed out that a brief glimpse of a face is a difficult thing to be so certain of.”   
  
Lady Catherine looked pointedly at Elizabeth, who laughed-- her brow clearing.

“I cry pardon, Anne-- you would not tell anybody anything roundly, would you, my dear? No, you are too like Mama to do so-- the both of you so meek and biddable that surely neither of you will say what you are thinking.”   
  
Her sister sighed and shook her head, “Lizzy, I do wonder what it is about you that allows you to say anything without causing offence.”   
  
“Perhaps it is because you know my intent is not to offend, Anne-- nevertheless it is a happy talent of mine that I must employ to good use.” She paused, “I suppose we are dining out tonight, Mama? Will the Misses Sodbury be present at every engagement we attend in London?” 

“Most of them. You did not seem to be intimidated by them at your last encounter, Elizabeth. We are to the Opera tonight and will dine at home first.”

“I? Oh no, not intimidated, Mama. Only, I do wish you might have imparted a little of your height to me, it is difficult to look down one’s nose at a young lady who is nearly six inches taller. I suppose Sir Lewis is to blame for my stature?” 

“The lack of height suits you rather better than it did him,” replied Lady Catherine, in the same tone of voice that was reserved solely for discussion pertaining to her late husband.

“Clarissa Sodbury’s remarks were nonsensical, Lizzy-- she herself has a diminutive Aunt, Mrs. Pole, and nobody ever said that _she_ cannot possibly belong to the Sodbury family.”

“Possibly not, Anne, but I don’t suppose there was ever any question of Mrs. Pole’s birth.”  
  
“There is not any question of yours!” 

“Not in my mind, nor in _yours_ my dear sister.”   
  
Shrewdly, Lady Catherine turned to Anne, “Was it not last season that the Sodbury girl set her cap at Darcy?” Elizabeth suddenly became very interested in a bowl of nuts that had been previously ignored and her mother checked her smile.   
  
Anne, who noticed everything, confirmed this and added, “Poor Fitzwilliam, he endured it well by most accounts.”   
  
“Did he?” 

“Oh yes, he is very polite.”

“Was he...I mean, did she think him to be paying court to her?”

“If she did then she could hardly think so now, could she? He has not been near her since last season from what I hear.”  
  
“Oh,” said her younger sister, sounding rather flat. 

The conversation might have continued on but the bell was heard and very shortly after the butler entered the room and quietly presented a card to her ladyship. Lady Catherine picked it up and inspected it. 

“Madame Joubert? What can have possessed you to admit her, Jones?”

“Madame Joubert was greatly desirous of conversing with you, your ladyship-- I was concerned that there may be something amiss with Miss Elizabeth’s order.”   
  
“Oh, let her come in, Mama--” begged Lizzy, “I am curious to know if there is a good explanation for my cousin’s gown being so dreadfully mismanaged.” 

Lady Catherine waited a long moment and then slowly nodded, “You may show her in Jones.”  
  
“Certainly, your ladyship. Should the Miss de Bourghs like their tea brought in?” 

“No, better to wait until the dressmaker is gone, bad enough to be admitting a tradesperson into the receiving rooms of this house but to have the tea tray at the same time is going too far.”  
  
The butler bowed and departed. A minute later he showed the unexalted guest into the room, Elizabeth was obliged to turn to conceal her smile when the old butler announced her for his tone made it evident that he shared his mistresses view of the situation.   
  
Lady Catherine remained seated and beckoned the lady into the room, “you may approach, Madame Joubert-- although you ought to be informed that upon my last visit to your establishment I was most seriously displeased.”

Madame Joubert, a black-haired Frenchwoman who was approaching middle age, made a single low curtsey to the de Bourgh’s and answered with charmingly accented English.  
  
“But yes, it is why I am here at the house of de Bourgh, madame.”   
  
Lady Catherine waited and sure enough, the woman continued on. 

“I am to offer you my apologies, to you and to your daughters. The dress that you were shown was not intended for Miss Darcy, who is I believe _jeune fille_ \-- it would not be at all fitting, _non_. The gown which the girl, who is undoubtedly a person most ignorant, showed you, is intended for a Mrs. Dancy of Manchester. My assistant misread the writing beside the gown, which is not at all an excuse for she ought to have known that I, Matilde Joubert, would not design such a dress for a debutante.”

“ _Manchester,”_ said Lady Catherine, appalled. “I ought to have foreseen that a person who would order such a dress would come from _Manchester_.”

“Madame?” 

“What you are saying, Madame Joubert, is that the atrocious garment that was put before the eyes of my daughters, had nothing whatsoever to do with my nephew, Mr. Darcy?”  
  
“ _Mais_ _non_ , Monsieur desired me to complete a white gown for his young sister. That gown, which is a triumph of restrained elegance, is very nearly completed and your ladyship may visit at any time to approve it.”   
  
“I see.”

“It is well that you see Madame, for I was a mistake most offensive to me-- so angry was I, that I have come here to this…” her look about the room spoke eloquently of what she thought of the house, “this domicile, in order to explain to you what has happened.”

“Having offered your explanation we need not detain you any longer from your business.” Lady Catherine had clearly not missed the Frenchwoman’s expression of artistic outrage when her dark eyes swept over the dingy tapestry that hung behind her chair. 

“Ye-es, I think I will go, but I think I could be of service to Madame-- I am an artiste most talented. I come to London and make beautiful dresses, there is no doubt that my gowns will be a success, it could not be otherwise, but-- I am also _manifique_ when it comes to making beautiful rooms. If Madame desires my advice, I offer it.” She shrugged a little, “It is a hardship to my eyes to see a home that might be elegant, still trapped in ugliness.”

“It is fortunate then, that you are not obliged to lay your eyes on it any longer than is necessary.” 

Madame Joubert, evidently seeing that she had been dismissed, retreated from the field and swiftly left. 

Once she had gone, Anne offered her opinion. “I suppose we at least know that Darcy may be forgiven.”   
  
Elizabeth, who had been composing in her mind, a letter to her cousin, detailing the particulars of how his name had been cleared, laughed a little. “Madame Joubert must be very confident in her own good taste, I think.”

Their mother nodded at each statement, “I will write to Darcy and inform him of the woman’s mistake.”   
  
“I am sure he will be very relieved, Mama,” said Lizzy, her eyes dancing. She had resolved within herself that once she had written to Mr. Darcy, Papa must be likewise entertained by the retelling of their unusual morning visitor. The thought of his enjoyment pleased her for a moment and then she recollected that she must write to Longbourn regardless. However fleeting a glimpse, she could not be convinced within herself that the girl in the carriage was _not_ Lydia and it troubled her. She sat that very afternoon at the writing desk that she had claimed for her own use in the drawing-room. Anne sat a little way away, far enough to give her sister privacy but not so far that Elizabeth might feel the want of any company. Occasionally, Elizabeth would look up from her letter and stare blankly at the wall in front of her as though searching for the correct word or expression, then, once having found it her head would bow again and the pen would move quickly over the page. 

“Lizzy,” said her elder sister, after having sat not reading a single page for half an hour.

“Yes?” 

“Lizzy, I think Madame Joubert ought to be given free rein to redecorate Ronleigh House.”

Elizabeth laid down her pen carefully, “Her opinion of the greatness of her own talents may be considered biased, dearest, but if you wish to raise it with Mama I will certainly support the idea. Mama Bennet would enjoy reading of an overhaul-- she has much more of an interest in such things than I.”

“It is your house, Elizabeth.”  
  
“Not yet, it is not-- it is surely Mama’s house. It would be a little too like the tale of the prodigal son to demand my inheritance _now_. Besides, I can’t help but feel that doing so would be to meet every expectation those dreadful Sodbury sisters have of me-- as though I have wheedled my way in only to live luxuriously. If you and Mama have coped with Ronleigh House being as it is then I will too.” 

Lady Catherine entered the room holding a letter. “I have just received this from Darcy, by express, no less. I do not approve of young men wasting their resources so unnecessarily-- even ones with such an income as he. Still, it shows proper concern for my favour.” 

“He is well?” asked Elizabeth, quickly. 

“He does not mention his health, Elizabeth, but I notice no feebleness in his hand. He writes well, with all the boldness in his penmanship that one could wish for in a man. Hubert de Bourgh now, he has a hand that is a little too delicate in my opinion. Still, at least it makes any letters from him easily identifiable and thus they can be consigned to the fire without my needing to take the trouble of opening them.”

“What was so urgent for cousin Darcy to send an express for, Mama?” asked Anne, bringing her mother back to the point and earning her sister’s gratitude.

“He was concerned that I might believe him to have ordered the wrong gown for the wrong lady.”  
  
“Did you?”   
  
“The thought had crossed my mind, Anne.”   
  
“Oh no,” interjected Elizabeth with assurance, “he is too moral a man for _that.”_

“What do you know of such things, Elizabeth?”

“No more nor no less than most young ladies of my age, mother. I am aware that men of privilege do not always behave as they should but Fitzwilliam is _not_ one of those men-- I can hardly believe that you thought it of him.” Her indignation on his behalf was readily apparent.

Lady Catherine looked steadily at Elizabeth for a long moment and put the express in her pocket. “You are on close terms with your cousin,” she remarked and watched Elizabeth blush.

“I daresay both Anne and I are... _fond_ of him, he is so very _kind_.”

“Oh yes, Mama,” said Anne dryly, “I also am very fond of Darcy, just as Elizabeth is. Very _fond_ of him.” 

Her ladyship nodded to the little desk that Elizabeth was sat at. “I suppose you are writing to him again.”  
  
“No,” replied Lizzy, her cheeks feeling hot to her touch as she attempted to cool them with her hands, “actually I am writing to Papa-- about my having seen...well never mind, it may be nothing.”

Lady Catherine withdrew the letter from her pocket once again and spread out the paper, she spent some moments rereading what her nephew had written while Elizabeth looked on in nervous anticipation.  
  
“Did...did Mr. Darcy mention _me_ in his letter, Mama?”

“Naturally, he very civilly offers his best wishes for the health and happiness of both you and Anne.” The clock struck the hour. “You had better finish your letter to Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth-- do not neglect to send him and Mrs. Bennet my compliments. Anne, you will wish to lie down before you dress for dinner, if you do not you will suffer for the exertion tomorrow.”   
  
Anne nodded and left the room. After she had gone, Lady Catherine addressed her youngest daughter. “Matlock thinks it would be a convenient thing for there to be an alliance between you and your cousin. He is of the opinion that it would solve any difficulty regarding your dowry.”   
  
“Mr. Darcy, you mean? Oh.”   
  
“Quite. I have told my brother that you will only act as it pleases you. If you want him, you may have him, but if you do not then I will willingly send him on his way.”   
  
“And what of Mr. Darcy’s inclinations-- what if _he_ chooses elsewhere?”

Lady Catherine de Bourgh looked at her letter once again, “There is the possibility, of course, that he would marry to disoblige his family--but I suspect that he will not.” 

  
  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer. Lady Catherine de Bourgh's opinion of Manchester does not reflect my own. Any place with a curry mile is alright with me. ;)


	31. Chapter 31

It did not satisfy Elizabeth that they departed from London as soon as Madame Joubert had completed an appropriate number of her gowns. On the one hand, the sooner that they departed for Derbyshire, the sooner she could speak earnestly with Mr. Darcy regarding the Earl of Matlock’s suggestion. On the other hand, she had received no word from Longbourn in the space of a fortnight regarding her youngest sister, Lydia. Anne persuaded her, with the dispassionate reasoning that so characterised her, that had it in truth been Lydia Bennet then surely Mr. Bennet would have written by now.

As they departed Ronleigh House, Elizabeth charged Jones most straightly that any correspondence must be sent on to her in Derbyshire as soon as it arrived. Jones, considerably relieved by the news that Madame Joubert had been engaged to see the renovations of the house, promised Miss Elizabeth most faithfully that he would oversee the matter personally.”    
  
Anne had been troubled by a sick headache for a few days but had managed to smile at that once they were in the barouche box and Lizzy had tucked a thick fur carefully about her sister.    
  
“If you wrap me up any more, Lizzy, I shall faint from the heat-- I wish you will take one of the hot bricks, I have no need of two. You must have thoroughly charmed Jones, the only orders he deigns to see to  _ himself _ are Mama’s instructions.”   
  
“Mayhap Mama must have thoroughly charmed him first then,” laughed Elizabeth, smiling all the more broadly at the stern look sent to her by her mother. “Why is it that servants are so much higher on the instep than their masters?”

“I hope you do not accuse me of flirting with a servant, Elizabeth.”   
  
“Not a bit of it, mother-- but how could any man fail to be impressed by you? My Lord Salisbury seemed quite put out when Anne and I whisked you away from your  tête-à-tête with him at Lady Jersey’s ball on Tuesday. I am sure he was summoning the courage to ask you to dance, should you have obliged him, I wonder?”   
  
“Salisbury? I have known him since I was presented at court-- you read too much into a long-standing acquaintance. I am past the age of thinking of men as anything other than an inconvenience to be tolerated. No, I have two grown daughters of my own now, what more could I wish for than that?”

“Is he to come to my ball? We must send him a card. It would only be proper after all since he is such a  _ very _ old friend of yours.”    
  
“As it happens, he  _ is _ to be there,” To Elizabeth’s delight, Lady Catherine looked a little discomforted by the direction of the conversation. 

“I assume Georgiana’s gown, which caused so much trouble, has been packed, Mama.” 

“Certainly, I oversaw Bellingham when she laid it into my trunk-- I do not neglect such things, Anne.” Lady Catherine then addressed Elizabeth once more, “The little tippet you purchased for your cousin was well thought of-- it is precisely the sort of thing I would have done myself, there is no want of good taste in you.”   
  
“Thank you, Mama. Jane must take some of the credit for any thoughtfulness of mine though-- growing up she was constantly thinking of small acts of kindness before everyone else and I do believe some of  _ her _ sweetness must have been passed on to me.”   
  
“Has any engagement been announced yet?”   
  
“No, and I am most anxious to hear of an announcement soon for I crowed to Darcy that I should certainly hear first. I have not had a letter from Longbourn in an age, perhaps there is some delay with the post-- but we should have heard of that in the papers, should we not? Are you going to try to sleep, Anne? I will be silent now and watch the passing landscape.”

Anne was sound asleep by the time the carriage had reached the outskirts of the city and by the time the horses picked up a little speed on the great north road Anne’s head had dropped to rest on Lizzy’s shoulder. Lady Catherine, who sat opposite, observed the unstudied manner in which Lizzy shifted her position to make her sister more comfortable. Her ladyship withdrew her handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes. Elizabeth sent her mother a questioning look.   
  
Lady Catherine speaking softly, answered the look, “Naught to be concerned with, my dear-- only the sentiment of an old woman.”   
  
“Mama,” whispered Elizabeth, “you are little more than forty!”   
  
“I have felt older for some time, guilt and sorrow have a way of ageing one.”   
  
“I do not believe you have anything whatsoever to feel guilt for-- you could hardly help it if Sir Lewis was a villain, after all. It has all turned out well enough has it not? The sorrow I will allow you, Mama but even that must be forgotten eventually for I mean you to be happy.”

“Perhaps both the guilt and the sorrow will leave me the longer life goes on as it is. When I see the pair of you, as you should always have been-- I cannot always tell if I feel anger or joy. It is hard to relinquish the anger when I have relied upon it to keep my spirits from defeat these long years. Rest assured, Elizabeth, I meant what I said when I told you that I have nothing else to wish for.”

Anne turned a little restless in her sleep and the two women left awake came to a mutual, silent decision that there should be no more conversation for the present. 

The coachman had only served the de Bourgh family for the best part of two years and was thus considered relatively new by the more aged retainers. Still, his steady pace, if it was not the quickest, gained the approval of Lady Catherine, who deemed it to be beneath her dignity to go anywhere in a great hurry. 

If Lizzy, once they had passed through the county of Middlesex and brushed through the edge of Hertfordshire on their way into Buckinghamshire, craned her neck to see glimpses of the familiar, Lady Catherine did not remark it. 

Elizabeth’s feelings churned within her, for within Hertfordshire lay much that was very dear to her. Her Mama and Papa, her sisters, the lanes and streets of her childhood. Not to mention Longbourn itself, a familiar and dear old house that she had once claimed as part of her own family history. 

She had known that they would not stop there, for it was not on Lady Catherine’s carefully planned itinerary. Lizzy had thought, once or twice, of asking if they might spend a night at Longbourn on their journey but she did not do so. 

She berated herself, as they passed through, for not having done so. She sorely wished to see them all. What matter if the family of her birth did not find the Bennets so very fine? Little doubt that if her Bennet Mama were to see Ronleigh House, she should think the de Bourghs exceedingly shabby.

Yet, Lizzy reflected, she did not think she could quite bear to see Anne or Lady Catherine hold those things in contempt that she treasured. Perhaps they might not understand that Mary’s sermonizing was able to simultaneously infuriate and fill her with fondness or that Mama’s nerves were a family joke but they would none of them permit anybody else to laugh at her for them. 

It may have been for the best then, that a meeting of both of her families should be delayed for the present. She would ask leave after they had returned to Rosings if she might travel to Meryton to visit. Darcy would support her in her wishes, that much she  _ could _ rely on-- she would ask him when they met once again at Matlock. 

Her thoughts naturally turning towards her handsome cousin, Elizabeth averted her face to look out of the window, knowing that her fine new bonnet must hide most of her countenance from her mother. It was not necessary for long, for Lady Catherine eventually dozed off herself and Lizzy was left the only one inside the carriage awake. 

There was temptation in graciously bowing to her uncle’s idea, no doubt of that. To be married to such a man as Mr. Darcy would surely be a source of blessing to any woman. What a disquieting thought though, to find herself in the future to be love with a husband who had only wed her out of obligation! She felt very strongly that she  _ could _ love him, that with each letter he sent, she had less control over her own heart. Elizabeth believed, after careful consideration, that Mr. Darcy had been unconsciously stealing parts of her heart since that early morning when Papa had left and he had offered her the comfort of his arms. No, perhaps not, perhaps her opinion of him had been changing since before that-- when his countless small acts of kindness had softened her towards him. 

It hardly mattered when her beginning had been, given that her concerns at present lay with  _ his _ feelings. He had kissed her, that was true, but that may yet turn out to be on account of his wishing to stop her mouth. Granted, there was also the fact that her Mr. Darcy had proposed to her in his letter  _ before _ her mother had mentioned Matlock’s scheme yet given that she herself had accidentally asked him to marry her that could not be relied upon as a reliable indicator of his feelings either. 

By the time they reached the inn at Northampton, her thoughts had turned about in her head in as repetitive a fashion as the wheels beneath her and she was glad to descend from the enclosed space to the inn yard. 

There could be no sense made of anything, she eventually concluded, until she had spoken face to face with Mr. Darcy. 

  
  
  



	32. Chapter 32

Matlock, to Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s disapproval, was nowhere to be seen when the travelling coach drew to a halt in front of the grand entrance. The de Bourgh ladies were very civilly met by the housekeeper who did her best to placate. Her master, she said, was currently from home and had been delayed in his return due to a small mishap with his horse-- her ladyship, being his hostess, was to treat the house and his servants as her own. 

Lady Catherine was evidently wearied from the long journey but she nodded briefly to this and waved a hand in the direction of her daughters. “Miss de Bourgh you have already met, of course, but this is my younger daughter, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is Mrs. Parks, she has been housekeeper here for above a decade if I am not mistaken.”   
  
“Eleven years this coming September, Madam. How do you do, Miss Elizabeth. My congratulations you on your restoration to your family, please do call for any of the staff should you require anything to add to the comfort of your visit. His Lordship is desirous of your being content here.”

“Thank you, has Miss de Bourgh’s maid arrived? I should like my sister to rest.”   
  
“Higginson, Miss Elizabeth? Yes-- and also Judd, your maid, also arrived this morning.”   
  
“Have them sent for, Mrs. Parks-- Miss de Bourgh and I will retire, doubtless Miss Elizabeth will disappear out of doors for an hour or so. Ensure that there is a servant available to escort her.”   
  
Elizabeth laughed and slipped a steady hand under Anne’s elbow. “My mother has learned my habits, Mrs. Parks-- I should indeed like to stretch my legs after having been cooped up for nearly two days in a confined space. Come along Anne, you will be better after you have slept.”    
  
Having settled Anne into her bed-chamber, a charming room that was papered in pink and cream--(a welcome relief after Ronleigh House) Elizabeth discovered Judd in her own room and was presented with a hot cup of tea.

“Useless to ask if you want to change into your white silk, I suppose, Miss,” said Judd in greeting.    
  
“Quite useless, Judd,” she smiled, taking the tea, “I am going to explore a promising looking path that I saw as we came up the drive-- do you wish to come or would you prefer I take one of my Uncle’s servants with me?”   
  
“I’ll come, Miss-- I shall fetch my bonnet and cloak. Shall I give orders for a bath to be drawn up upon your return?”   
  
“Yes, that would be wise. Do you know where my lord Matlock is?”   
  
“He rode into Derby early this morning, Miss. Drink your tea down, now-- you’re looking peaked if you will pardon my saying so.”   
  
“Positively haggish might be more accurate. Anne is not well, I don’t like to see her so knocked up.”   
  
“Wouldn’t say haggish, just a spot worn out,” said her maid, a little gruffly. She had not long been with her young mistress but rather liked her laughing nature. “I’ll have a word with the still room maid, Miss.” 

“Have any letters arrived for me?”   
  
“No, Miss Elizabeth, I’d have given them to you immediately if there had been. Just as soon as there is anything come for you I will bring it to you directly.”   
  
“Yes, of course, there is that. Do not mind my anxiety, Judd-- I shall be better after a walk. Do go and fetch your cloak, I shall finish this tea  _ and _ have a second cup and then meet you-- where?”   
  
“Front entrance, Miss. It’s a large house, I’ve not got the layout quite right in my head yet.”

Judd was correct, a walk out of doors, regardless of the wind, considerably restored Lizzy’s weary spirits. Although Anne had tried not to complain, it was evident that she had struggled during the journey and by the time they had entered Derbyshire even Lady Catherine’s expression had become a little pinched. 

Elizabeth had just remarked to her maid that they should now turn back to the house when she spied a horseman approaching along the drive. Something about his bearing made her stand absolutely still and observe until he was near enough to see a little more clearly. The rider did not remark her until she, realising who it was, waved to gain his notice.

“Mr. Darcy!”    
  
She stood, smiling broadly at him, and feeling no small amount of feminine pride that immediately steered his horse over to her and dismounted. If only Clarissa Sodbury had been present on the lawn to see it, she should have been very well content.   
  
“Elizabeth-- my uncle said you were coming today, I saw him in Derby this morning, his horse cast a shoe and he is not far behind me-- the farrier will have the horse shod quickly. Instead of returning to Pemberley I rode here. How are you, my dear?” Mr. Darcy wore a green riding coat that afternoon and Elizabeth, trying not to overtly stare at him, thought that it became him very well. 

“Oh, I am well enough, sir. My sister and mother are resting in their rooms.”   
  
“And you came out for a walk as soon as you could?” Elizabeth decided she rather like the fond smile that graced his handsome face and she particularly liked his implication that he rode ten miles out of his way to see her.

“Yes, of course. Judd, you may return to the house-- my cousin will escort me back indoors, won’t you Mr. Darcy?”

The young man, having been occupied with his cousin, belatedly noted the maid behind Elizabeth and nodded to her, “I will.”    
  
He fell into step beside Lizzy, leading his horse on the other side of her and waited until Judd was out of earshot before speaking again.   
  
“Your new maid, I gather? How do you get on with her?”    
  
“Yes, Mama engaged her very quickly after giving me the choice of two applicants. The other was a terrifying woman, but Judd suits me very well.”   
  
“Terrifying? How so?”   
  
“Oh, in the worst possible way. She had served the daughter of a Duke before her marriage and was looking for another exquisitely lovely creature to bring into fashion. I do not think I impressed her but she was willing to try her best to improve me.”   
  
“I am glad to see you unaltered-- for all that is a fetching bonnet. I suppose you had to endure at least an hour at the milliners for that?”   
  
Lizzy laughed and took the arm he offered, “Oh at least, but I did have three other bonnets for my trouble and a rather dashing chip hat. I should have worn it to impress you had I known that you would come to Matlock upon my arrival here. If you bring your sister to see me I will put it on then. It makes me look quite five inches taller.” 

He looked down at the top of her bonneted head, the same fond smile making a reappearance and hovering about his mouth. 

  
“I promise to be suitably impressed.”   
  
Lizzy could not resist, “I am not, of course, quite up to the height of Miss Sodbury in it.”   
  
“Good. Miss Sodbury is too tall.”   
  
Quietly relieved to hear him say so, Elizabeth was able to be gracious. “Oh, but she is very elegant-- and you must not be severe upon us ladies for what we cannot help. I suppose you have on your list of accomplishments for a young lady an ideal height in mind-- we must not be above five feet and six inches or we will incur Mr. Darcy’s disapproval.”   
  
“You are referring to our conversation one evening at Netherfield?”   
  
“Yes, had you forgotten it?”   
  
“I remember you finding fault with my supposed list, and informing me that I was altogether too demanding of young ladies.”   
  
“Did I? I am sure I was correct to do so.” She laughed a little but then sobered, “I am glad I have seen you privately, sir.”

“Is aught amiss?” he quickly inquired, “tell me how I may be of service to you.”   
  
Such an eagerness to please was all she could wish for, “I do not quite know. I cannot tell if my concern is the work of an unrestrained imagination or if I have an actual reason to fret. I will not trifle with you, Mr. Darcy, and I will tell you directly what is on my mind. Before we left London, Anne and I went to Hatchards, and briefly-- oh so very briefly-- I turned and saw a carriage pass by on the street. If you had asked me in that moment what was passing through my mind, Mr. Darcy, I would have been adamant that one of the occupants of that carriage was my sister, Lydia. She is supposed to be in Brighton, you know-- with Mrs. Forster.”    
  
“And given the passing of time, you do not know if you may trust your own judgement.”   
  
She toyed with the ribbon of her bonnet, how  _ like _ him to grasp her quandary without requiring detailed explanation, “No, I do not. I wish I could either be certain of what I saw or to dismiss it utterly from my mind, but I can do neither.” Already she felt a little lighter for having confided in him, he had such steadiness of character that he might be relied upon to know how to act.   
  
“You have written to Longbourn, Elizabeth?”   
  
“Yes, and  _ that _ troubles me further. I have had no response, not since I saw...or thought I saw her.”

“On what day did you visit Hatchards and when did you write?”   
  
“Oh-- it was the sixteenth of July, I am sure of it, I wrote that evening, asking if all was well.”   
  
“And you have had no letter at all in the time since-- there has been no other correspondence that omitted to answer your query regarding Miss Lydia?”   
  
“No, no letter at all.”   
  
“I see,” he gave the matter a moments thought and then said, “I will write to Bingley, he is at Netherfield.”

Elizabeth sighed, and she smiled again, “Thank you-- I have been concerned, perhaps too much so but if Mr. Bingley will set my mind at rest I should be grateful.” They walked on for some moments and Lizzy laid her other hand on Mr. Darcy’s arm, scarcely thinking about the intimacy of it until his eye met hers and she blushed and sought for something to break their silence, “I suppose in doing me this service you may well hear first that which I particularly wish to hear of.”   
  
“You believe Miss Bennet to be still inclined towards my friend?”   
  
“Oh yes! There can be no doubt of it. It will surely be a very happy match if only they will decide to bring it about.”    
  
“Matlock spoke to me last week, he raised a suggestion that I fear will not please you.” For the first time in their meeting, her cousin sounded unsure. It was not that he paused or sounded timid in any way, he spoke well-- as he ever did, but Elizabeth sensed a hesitation about him, as though he were selecting his words with care.   
  


“In what way do you fear I will not be pleased? Come-- Lord Matlock has not yet returned from Derby, we have a clear view of the drive, so if you will give me valuable information I will marshall my defences accordingly and surprise my foe on his approach.”   
  
“That sounds like something Richard might say,” complained Mr. Darcy. They had come nearer to the front of the house and Darcy saw a stable boy some little way off. He hailed him, saying, “you there, come and take my horse-- he will need rubbing down well, mind.”

“Yes sir, at once.”   
  
“Good lad,” said Mr. Darcy and handed him a coin. “Come around to the garden, Elizabeth-- we will walk there for a few minutes.”    
  
“Mama’s room overlooks the garden, I believe.”   
  
“And you are concerned lest she should see something untoward?”   
  
“No, should I be wasting yet more concern if I was?” She changed colour at the tease but then rallied, “You prefer billiard rooms for shocking displays, I believe.”   
  
He looked at her quickly and she thought his colour looked a little higher than was usual for him. “ _ Were _ you shocked? I do not remember that part.”   
  
Elizabeth mustered a smile, “come, cousin, tell me what it is you fear will displease me and we will depart from this talk.”   
  
“It is connected.”

“My Uncle  _ knows  _ that you kissed me in the billiards room at Rosings?” exclaimed Lizzy, showing him an astonished countenance, “pray tell me that Mama has not heard it.”   
  
“No, he does not know that  _ we  _ kissed one another-- rather he has requested that we should consider whether or not we might suit.”   
  
“Suit.”   


“Yes. Suit.”   
  
“For marriage?” 

“Certainly for marriage.”   
  
“Oh. He told Mama that I should marry you because it should solve any issue regarding my lack of a dowry.”   
  
“You already knew!”    
  
“Mama mentioned it while we were in London. She did not consider that your consent in the matter would prove any difficulty. I will  _ not _ ,” she stopped to consider her words and watched as his face became set and still, “I will not marry where either party is coerced into an alliance by those well-meaning relatives who do not have to live with the results an arrangement.”   
  



	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have read and enjoyed your lovely comments but decided to spend the time writing rather than responding to them. I hope to answer you all soon (possibly even tonight) so I hope you will forgive the seeming rudeness. I wouldn't want you to think I don't love to read your thoughts, impressions and brilliantly imaginative theories. Basically, sorry I haven't answered yet!
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
> Can't write every evening but I'm getting time to write more frequently at present. 
> 
> I would like also to say that I really hope you all keeping safe and well given the current pandemic.

Mr. Darcy looked gravely at her and then walked a few paces along the gravel of the path before turning back to Elizabeth and addressing her with no small degree of agitation.

“Forgive me, Elizabeth-- I must ask...I must not leave this matter unclarified. Only make your meaning plain if you please.”

“I should have thought it quite obvious, Mr. Darcy, but I will phrase it differently if you like. However embarrassing I find this subject I know you too well to believe that you would rejoice in any mortification of mine.” With a greater appearance of courage than she felt she actually possessed, Lizzy faced him boldly. “In short, cousin, our uncle has all but given you orders that you should pay your addresses to me and I do not care to be the means by which your choice is taken from you.”

He looked a little eager now, and nodded that she should continue, adding for further encouragement, “go on, Elizabeth.”

“What more is there to say, sir? Perhaps it is my pride that revolts at the thought of your marrying me for convenience, and to think I accused you of an excess of such. If you will submit to the earl directing such an important aspect of your life, one indeed that might affect the whole course of it, then I believe you to have no pride whatsoever.”

Mr. Darcy smiled and took her hand once again, tucking it in his arm and propelling her along the path.

“There is a box garden if we head beyond that wall, let us go and look at it.” He did not slow his step or wait for her to respond and rather nonplussed she went with him, half skipping to keep up with his longer stride. “Do you remember at Rosings, after Richard revealed to you that I had interfered with Miss Bennet and Bingley? I said, wrongly, that I thought Miss Bennet might marry my friend in order to please her mother.”

“Ye-es, I vaguely remember you saying something similarly asinine. Will you not slow down a little, sir? If Mama, or worse-- Anne-- is watching from the window she will think you intent upon abducting me.”

He slowed immediately, “I beg your pardon, I forgot-- I was thinking of other things.”

“Such as the box garden.”

“Oh no. That is merely a point to walk towards while we talk with a measure of privacy. We have too little time not to be frank with one another. I mentioned my asinine opinions because it strikes me we are now in a similar situation to the one I imagined Bingley was in. You suppose that I would offer my hand to a girl at the behest of my family and their favour.”

Elizabeth considered, “I cannot say I had ever compared you to Jane before Mr. Darcy, but now I think of it there is a resemblance.”

“Is there?” he asked, distractedly, “how so?”

“You are both blessed with very superior looks for one and the two of you are well directed by our own consciences, for another. If I add to that, that neither of you is entirely comfortable in new society, well-- I should go beyond saying there is a resemblance and declare that you are positively similar.”

Her cousin considered this, “Given the affection with which you hold Miss Bennet, I find that cheering.”

Deliberately misunderstanding him, Elizabeth looked mischievous, “You wish me to love you in the same manner as I love her? You will have to become adept at tying my bonnet ribbons for me first, as she used to do when I was a girl.”

Mr. Darcy ceased walking in surprise but let out a short laugh when he looked at her expression. 

“Do you always tease when you are uncomfortable Elizabeth? It seems to me that when a matter becomes too weighty for you, you must make someone laugh.”

“Either that or I throw marble apples at them.”

“You could hardly have been expected to find any humour on that day. I can hardly think of the situation now without abhorrence. We ought to have delayed matters and sent for at least some of the Bennets-- it was not a fair interview, not for you. You endured it as well as you could, my dear. Ah here we are-- through this door”

He led them into a carefully arranged garden with walkways that were edged by neat box hedges, at the centre of the garden there was a fountain with a wide enough brim that one might sit beside the water. 

“It is a little formal for my tastes, but I can admire the skill of the gardeners, Mr. Darcy.” 

Concealed by the height of the wall that they stood beside, he took both of her hands. “I would not marry to please our uncle, Elizabeth-- any more than you would. I am a man of independent means, I have been my own man for many years now and I tell you that the only thing that could lead me to offer my hand would be if I could offer my heart also.” He bent his head to kiss her hands and met her eye. “I know that it has been hard for you since March, that you have had many adjustments to make-- your own excellence has occasionally deceived me into fooling myself that the change was not so bad, but,” he added earnestly, “I know that it was.” 

Lizzy had stood silently listening and watching his face, he had been serious thus far, as he ever was but now his eyes turned tender and in his voice was all the gentleness that she could wish for. 

“Elizabeth, I hold you in the highest esteem-- if you could see the contents of my heart, of my feelings, I believe that you would see enough to convince you that I desire nothing more than to live my life with you in it. My desire has been, for some time now, that you should be happy. I do not ask you now, dearest, dearest Elizabeth-- I will not be the means of imposing any more alteration into your life that you do not seek out yourself. I would have you know though, that if there should come a time, be it tomorrow or a year from now, that you wish for me as a husband-- well, you have only to say the word.”

Deeply moved, Elizabeth liberated one of her hands from his grasp in order to find her handkerchief. Once she had dabbed her eyes she returned it to his. It felt natural and right to stand so close to him, to entwine her fingers with his and smile up at him.

Was there ever such a man as this? One who was used to having his own way in all things, but in order to spare her any distress, delayed the gratification of his own wishes indefinitely. Elizabeth did not doubt that he loved her, she knew it-- not through his words, although his declarations pleased her, rather, she heard the truth of his affections in the tender tone with which he spoke. 

She nodded, “I do believe you are asking me to ask you to marry you, cousin,” she remarked, her voice trembling.

“We need not mention that part to your mother.” 

“Oh? I rather think she would approve-- but I would rather spare you the embarrassment when the inevitable day comes of our engagement notice being printed as ‘Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh has had her proposals accepted by Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire.’ I can imagine Mama at Longbourn reading it and falling into a faint.”

“Inevitable is it?” 

“Cousin, if you had just now asked me to be your wife I should have accepted you.” He fought temptation for a visible moment and remained silent, “You were correct, Mr. Darcy-- if we were to marry soon, yet another adjustment should have proved very trying for me. You deserve a bride who thinks of nothing but you, sir-- without fretting over many sisters or two Mama’s and their respective feelings.”

Mr. Darcy nodded, “I will tell my uncle that now is not the time for such discussions and that you are not to be beleaguered by his lordship on the subject.”

“Is he like Mama on that score, cousin?” Elizabeth asked, laying a light hand on his shoulder.

He bit his lip looking a little uncomfortable, “There are passing similarities between the siblings, even Mama found it difficult to let a matter rest if she believed she had the right solution. By the by, if you will not consistently call me Fitzwilliam, at least call me Darcy.”

“Have we not established that you are my cousin? It is correct, is it not?” 

“It is, but that doesn’t follow that I wish to be reminded of it.”

“Why?”

“Because it is decidedly annoying to want to kiss a girl that will insist on using a familial address.”

“Oh,” said Lizzy, digesting this and wandering over to the fountain sat on the ledge, he followed and stood a little way off watching her. “Do you know, Fitzwilliam, I had thought that you kissed me at Rosings out of sheer pique.”

“What?!” he exclaimed, very much surprised. 

“Yes,” she continued conversationally, “I could not account for it otherwise, you know, and the only reasonable explanation I could manage was that you wanted me to be quiet and perhaps because I was not a lowly Bennet any longer.”

“Elizabeth,” he said quietly, “I have wanted to kiss you since the first time you stepped within my arms reach.”

Quickly calculating, Elizabeth said, “Oh,” once more, then quite deliberately rose from her ledge and walked closer to him, “It might have been helpful to have that information rather sooner.”


	34. Chapter 34

The Earl of Matlock arrived a mere hour after his niece and nephew had returned to the house and he greeted Elizabeth with kindly civility.    
  
“Well now, how is my niece?”   
  
Lizzy dipped a curtsey, “I am well, I thank you, uncle. I trust your horse is seen to and that you were able to ride home.”   
  
Matlock looked at Darcy meaningfully, “Yes, yes, the horse is well enough, niece. Your Mama will probably scold me and insist that I need not have remained with the creature but it is a favourite mount of mine and one cannot always trust a farrier to treat blood cattle as they should.”   
  
“You are attached to your horses, my lord?”   
  
“Oh yes, prefer them to most people-- not present company, of course. Although you are not a horsewoman, I hear from Richard?” 

“I am sorry to disappoint, I prefer the security of my own two feet.”   
  
“I would not call it disappointing, Elizabeth-- I can acknowledge that not everyone is so fond of horses as I am.”   


“Richard called it disappointing-- perhaps he has not inherited his Papa’s sense of tolerance.”   
  
He laughed at that, “He said you were quick-witted, I am pleased for it. No, Richard is very like his late mother on occasion, unable to see anybody’s point of view besides their own.”   
  
Darcy stifled a cough behind his hand and Elizabeth looked to him, “you do not agree, Fitzwilliam?” She could not help but smile at him, the memory of their time in the garden was fresh on her mind. Knowing that he loved her gave her confidence, she could find him in a room and be sure of his support, it made her feel far braver in the face of the coming ball.    
  
“I would hesitate to contradict our uncle, but honesty compels me to point out that the late countess said much the same in reverse once or twice.”   
  
Matlock laughed again, “well we never did get on-- dreadful woman. You should be glad to have been spared the meeting of her, niece, Catherine loathed her and I will say this for my sister--”   
  
“Do go on, brother.” 

“Catherine! Well met, you still haven’t shaken the habit of creeping into a room to listen before announcing your presence, I see.”    
  
“You were about to inform my daughter that I am an excellent judge of character.”   
  
“Oh,  _ was _ I? I am sure I do not remember,” said the Earl of Matlock, sounding a little sullen.

“You might further add that I am also very well acquainted with the forms of civility and that ones host being absent upon the arrival of invited guests is a serious breach of manners.”

“Come now Cathy, I am too old to be scolded by you-- how could I be expected to account for a thrown shoe now? Besides which,” he added hastily, seeing that she had opened her mouth to argue, “you are my family rather than a guest, eh sister? Did you not grow up here? Why, it is more that you are come home rather than merely paying a visit.”   
  
His sister appeared mollified by this and moved onto her next subject, “We must make arrangements for the ball-- I trust your cook has been making white soup in the quantities that I instructed? I have not spoken to the woman yet.”    
  
“Yes-- Marchant, my chef, was content enough with the arrangement when I explained that we should need his expertise in other areas. Really sister, you must appreciate that kitchen staff must be treated with some delicacy, they are sensitive creatures.”   
  
Darcy led Elizabeth a little way from the siblings, who looked as though they might open another dispute, “he would know, my Uncle had his last French cook leave him in a fit of fury.”   
  
“Oh, dear!”

“Quite, he had slaved over preparations for a dinner party that Matlock  _ forgot _ to tell him had been cancelled. It was too much for him. A pity for Matlock,” said Darcy, cheerfully, “ Monsieur Allande is a very good chef.”   
  
“How awkward-- I have sympathies for him.”

“So did I. I offered him a position at Pemberley. You must come soon, Elizabeth, and meet Georgiana. We will put on a grand banquet in your honour.”

“It sounds delightful, I will ask Mama how soon we may visit.”   
  
“If the weather is fine, my uncle must send you in an open carriage-- it is the best way to see the landscape as you approach the house.”   
  
“Not on a horse?” she responded with a coy smile.   
  
His own smile answered her, “Are you offering to get on one, my dear?”

Elizabeth laughed and shook her head, “I would not have you think I am  _ afraid _ of the creatures, Fitzwilliam-- it is merely that I am no horsewoman, I do much walking.”

Matlock and Lady Catherine had evidently done with their disagreement and approached the window by which Darcy and Elizabeth stood. A quick glance at her mother’s face informed her that her uncle had not been the victor in their quarrel. She was careful not to smile, very few people got the better of her Mama-- it was a point of pride.

“Good to see two of you getting along so well with one another,” said Matlock, with an obvious wink at Darcy, who did not acknowledge it. 

“Fitzwilliam has urged us to see Pemberley, Mama-- may we go soon?”   
  
“Splendid!” interjected Matlock, just as Lady Catherine was about to respond, she directed a quelling look at him.   
  
“Once Anne is sufficiently recovered, naturally we will go-- Georgiana will like to see her dress. Elizabeth selected a very pretty tippet for Georgiana, nephew, which I am sure she would like to give to her herself, rather than your carrying it.”   
  
“Did you?” he met Lizzy’s eye and was evidently pleased. He looked at her with warmth and she reflected that it was a good beginning for them, that his pleasure should cause her a sudden spurt of happiness. Would she spend her life desiring his approval, if this was how she felt now?

Her spirits were high and must find expression in laughter, “Yes, it is a trifle but I hope she will like it.” Lizzy looked up at Fitzwilliam, a gleam in her eye, “Have you a  _ box garden _ at Pemberley, sir? I find that there is a  _ great _ delight to be had in a box garden.”   
  
A faint blush tinged Darcy’s cheeks but Matlock replied first, “Oh, I have a little box garden here, Elizabeth-- Darcy will take you out to see it will you not, Nephew?”   
  
“Elizabeth has already seen it, Uncle,” replied Darcy, calmly but with a glance at Elizabeth that was evidently intended to make her cease. 

“I  _ particularly _ approve of your fountain, sir,” she remarked, unabashed.

“Darcy, are you to dine here this evening?” interjected Lady Catherine, if you will I hope you carried suitable attire for it, I will not sit down to eat dinner with a young man in boots-- regardless of the laxness of current fashions.

“No, I came straight from Derby, Aunt-- I had better return to Pemberley, Georgiana is expecting me to dine with her. Give my regards to Anne.”   


Elizabeth was a little crestfallen that he would not stay longer but comprehended the rationality behind it, offered to walk with him as far as the entrance hall-- “I am going that way anyhow, I want to step upstairs and see how Anne fares.”   
  
“My sister and I will bid you farewell from here then, Darcy,” supplied Matlock, evidently not a subtle man, “and I daresay we will see you very shortly at Pemberley.”   
  
Darcy and Elizabeth left the room but heard Matlock’s voice carrying before they had got far enough past the door, “Oh come now Catherine, what does he want with  _ me _ seeing him to the door now? He knows very well where it is and I’m not as pretty as his little cousin now am I? Let the young ones alone-- you were young  _ once _ .”

Half laughing and half frowning in embarrassment, Elizabeth tucked her hand into Mr. Darcy’s. “And to think I have been trying to convince Mama that she is not so old as she believes herself to be.”   
  
“Have you, I suppose you had a reason for it?”

“Lord Sailsbury looked rather taken with her in London and all she will say is that she has known him forever and he is not  _ such _ a very great fool as most men.”

“You are trying to match your Mama with Lord Sailsbury.” 

She held up her hand in acknowledgement-- “If I am, I am doing so in a far less obvious way than Lord Matlock is with you and I.”   
  
“Yes-- tell me, my loveliest Elizabeth,” he paused and admired the wide-eyed stare that was now fixed on him, “do you intend to continue to make your sentiments obvious to me in the company of others who are not aware of our--” he trailed off, attempting to find a fitting description.

“Our un-arrangement.”

“That is not a word but it suits admirably.”

“Are you asking me if I intend to flirt with you directly under our uncle’s oblivious eye?” he nodded, “Yes--  _ outrageously _ .”

“When you come to Pemberley,” he threatened, ominously, “I am going to  _ personally _ give you a tour of the avenue of Spanish chestnuts.”

A servant came into view and Lizzy dropped his hand before they turned the corner and were before the doors, with footmen either side who sprang to attention. 

“I very much look forward to it, Mr. Darcy,” she replied primly. 

He took her hand again, more conventionally this time and bowed over it. The footmen at the door did not see the slow caress of his thumb across the back of her hand, neither did they notice the improper increase of pressure that Elizabeth applied to his fingers. 

“I will write my letter, as soon as I am at liberty to, tonight if I can-- and you may depend upon my giving you news as soon I receive any.”    
  
“Thank you, sir. I will see you very soon I hope-- at Pemberley.”

“I am glad you are come to Derbyshire, Elizabeth,” he said, bending his head to kiss her hand before taking his hat and gloves from the servant, who stood by.    
  
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, her liveliness making her eyes sparkle, “thus far I find it a decidedly  _ promising _ county.” 


	35. Chapter 35

It was decided the next morning that a visit to Pemberley should take place in three days time. After a satisfactory rest in her room, Anne managed to attend the morning meal-- she still looked a little pale, Elizabeth thought, but her spirits at least had revived sufficiently to eat a single soft egg.    
  
Elizabeth, who was possessed of an excellent appetite, sat beside her and attempted to persuade her sister to help herself to anything that was on her plate.    
  
Her elder sister looked fairly revolted and shook her head, “Elizabeth, I cannot tolerate meat first thing in a morning, no you must not try to give me anything that you have taken, Mama is watching and she would be horrified if she saw me do so.”   


Lizzy gave up, “I suppose you do not have the excuse of an inferior upbringing as I do.”   
  
Anne sighed, and looked annoyed, “You would be extremely offended if Mama or I ever referred to your upbringing as such so why do you do so?” 

“I was jesting, Anne,” Lizzy defended herself, looking away. She heard ‘Pemberley’ and ‘Darcy’ mentioned in the conversation between Lady Catherine and her uncle and turned her head in their direction, “Oh, are you speaking of our proposed visit to Pemberley, Mama? I should like to go soon, but only once Anne has recovered, of course,” she added quickly, a glance to her sister. Elizabeth, for all she greatly desired to see Darcy again, did not intend to prove a trial to her sister’s health.   
  
“If you will permit me a day or two before I must get into any conveyance with wheels, I should be glad of it.” Then Anne continued in a softer voice, “forgive me for my shortness of temper, Lizzy-- I did not intend to be impatient with you.”   
  
“Do not give it another thought! I am exceptionally well versed in sisters who will occasionally express their irritation when tired. For my part,” she said kindly, “I am sorry if my glib remarks will occasionally rile you-- you must not think you cannot say when that happens. I will love you regardless of how often we pull caps.”

Unexpectedly, Anne’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked rapidly as if to deny them. Elizabeth sat so near, saw them and her own eyes widened in alarm, “Oh Anne, my most composed sister-- I  _ have _ upset you,” she murmured in remorse, “and I meant today to be so merry too.”

“It is only tiredness, Elizabeth-- I will be better by and by. Let us speak of something else, tell me how your chance meeting with Darcy unfolded yesterday, did he mention your teasing answer to his letter?”   
  
“Oh,” Elizabeth blushed, “yes, it was quite the surprise, he met our uncle in Derby and rode over immediately when he knew we were to come today-- is that not civil of him?”   
  
“Very civil, almost particularly civil, in fact,” replied Anne, sounding a little more like herself.   
  
“No, I am determined not to argue with you any more this morning, so you shall not tempt me.”   
  
“Elizabeth, Anne-- we are to all pay a visit to Pemberley in a few days, my brother is of the opinion that we must take two open carriages.”   
  
“It sounds delightful!” exclaimed Elizabeth, “Darcy said that would be the very best way to see the grounds-- I am obliged to you, Uncle, for thinking of it. I own I should have been a little disappointed to not be able to see everything in the best possible style.”   
  
The earl was pleased by her thanks but waved it away. “Can’t have any niece of mine doing anything so shabby as to travel in a stuffy carriage when we might do rather better, eh? Besides, depend upon it, the tenants hereabouts will have gotten wind of your being here and will want a good look at you, so it serves both purposes admirably well.”

“It would not be at all delightful if it were to rain, brother-- so you will oblige  _ me _ by ordering a stuffy carriage should it do so. Elizabeth will strive to contain her disappointment, should it be necessary, I am sure.”   
  
“Oh yes, Mama!” laughed Lizzy, “for it would be dreadful to arrive at Pemberley soaking wet, would it not-- I should hardly dare to look Mr. Darcy in the eye, let alone,” she added a little lamely, seeing the mocking gleam appearing in Anne’s eye, “let alone,  _ Miss _ Darcy.” Lady Catherine nodded and when her Mama and Uncle had returned their attention to their breakfasts and occasional argument, Lizzy spoke to Anne very quietly. “You may cease your knowing looks at me, Anne de Bourgh-- if I am eager to see my cousin I am sure there is nothing so unusual in it. He is writing a letter to Mr. Bingley, since I have had no news from Longbourn and I hope that he may have had a response.”   
  
“I will ignore the flaws in that argument for now-- you hope for a response so soon? It seems a little rapid for it to be likely.”   
  
Elizabeth shrugged a little, “I do not say that I depend upon it, but you know if Mr. Darcy sent a letter by express and Mr. Bingley does likewise, it is quite possible that there may be news for me when we are at Pemberley.”    
  
Anne frowned, “I am almost inclined to hope not-- given that such a speed could indicate bad news. No, I hope for your sake that Mr. Bingley sees no need to reply so quickly, that there is no cause for so great a concern as to send a rider halfway across the country and back again in a few days.”   
  
“You are so practically minded, Anne-- it is a blessing, my dear, particularly when I am more inclined to the hypothetical and end up trying my  _ own  _ poor nerves.”

Two days quietly spent free from travelling did Anne a great deal of good and thus it was on the appointed day that the Earl of Matlock handed his sister up into an open carriage and then climbed up beside her. 

“Instruct the driver that he must not lose sight of my daughters, brother. I can tolerate our going in two carriages-- it is better to be able to sit forwards after all, but the drivers  _ must _ keep even pace with one another.”   
  
Remembering the cause of his sister’s concern, Matlock answered with more patience than he might otherwise have done, “I have already given instruction that we must arrive at one and the same time, Cathy. You need not fear, sister. All will be well.”   
  
Graciously ignoring any implication that she was afraid, Catherine busied herself with the arrangement of her skirts and muff. 

It was Anne who had the privilege of directly witnessing Elizabeth’s first glimpse of Pemberley and had heard her sister’s sighs of satisfaction after they passed through the lodge that led into the park. 

They passed through woods at first, and Lizzy, looking beyond the rich purple foxgloves that lined the road, pointed out each individual spot within that pleased her. 

Once the carriages had emerged from Pemberley woods the view opened out and the terrain became a little steeper as they made their way toward the house. 

“Over there, Elizabeth,” Anne urged her quietly, seeing that her sister was too occupied in surveying the landscape and had not yet observed the white stone mansion that stood out against the verdant green gardens that surrounded it.

“Oh!” exclaimed Lizzy, and then “oh--  _ Anne _ .”   
  
“You are perhaps regretting not having accepted our cousin’s obliging offer of marriage, and Bamber House, if I recall correctly?” 

“If I were to regret  _ that _ , it would be on account of the man, Anne and not for want of such an... _ extraordinarily _ lovely estate. I have never seen its like.”   
  
“No, nor I-- even Mama admits that Pemberley surpasses Rosings for beauty. Our Aunt Anne never liked leaving this house you know, for all that the Darcy family has houses scattered throughout England.” 

“Little wonder that Mr. Darcy was so willing to give me Bamber House. Every other building in the world must fall short for our cousins. I am no longer surprised that he was so unimpressed by all that he saw in Hertfordshire, Charlotte once remarked that he had a certain right to his pride and really I do begin to... No,  _ no-- _ I must not fall headlong into love with the place before I have even seen inside it, Anne, do talk some sense into me, dear.”

Amused, Anne shook her head-- “Oh, you will be instantly cured once you step inside. It is dreadfully gothic, all cobwebs and broken mirrors and dark, narrow staircases.”

Lizzy’s eyes were fixed on the elegant building that they drew nearer to, “which is to say that the inside is every bit as lovely as the exterior. I am quite lost, I believe.” 

She sat in silence until the two carriages drew quite close to the house and she saw the master of Pemberley and a tall young woman exiting through the door-- they paused on the steps and Elizabeth got her first glimpse of Georgiana Darcy. 

Her younger cousin was a handsome girl, every bit as much as her brother was, Lizzy decided. Her youth was not immediately apparent, seeing as her figure was well developed for sixteen and her height gave the impression of more years than was reality.    
  
It was not until she got closer yet when they had alighted from the carriages and Miss Darcy, once having curtseyed to her aunt and uncle turned to her and Anne at her brother’s direction, that she realised there could be no mistaking how young Georgiana Darcy was. Her face had all the softness of a very young woman. Her eyes, in particular, gave evidence to it-- she could barely look directly at her cousins and frequently shot nervous glances to her brother during their introduction. 

George Wickham, Elizabeth decided, was a monstrous and depraved individual. Mama was quite right, such a man really ought not to be permitted to live. 


	36. Chapter 36

The party was ushered inside and Mr. Darcy, evidently too well mannered to neglect his other relatives in favour of bearing Elizabeth off to speak in private, managed only a look to her before he offered Lady Catherine his arm. 

Elizabeth and Anne walked inside with Georgiana. 

“We are to sit in the garden room for refreshments-- they will be served on the hour,” Miss Darcy informed them, so softly that they could barely hear her. “Will you not step this way, Miss--- I mean, cousins.”   
  
Pitying her, Elizabeth smiled, “It is awkward is it not? To have a new, yet fully grown, relative whom you have had no acquaintance with. I for one, hope that we will soon be good friends-- we must make up for all of the lost years where we have not known one another. Suffice it to say, cousin, that you may call me any number of things without my being at all likely to take offence.”    
  
“Richard called her ‘my little cousin, Lizzy’ after having been in the room with her for five minutes, Georgiana,” offered Anne. 

“He did indeed!” laughed Elizabeth, at Miss Darcy’s questioning look, “One cannot be proof against Richard, he set out to befriend me and so he did. Our uncle says he is to come next week for a few days before my ball. Regardless, you may if you like also call me ‘Lizzy’-- you might even be accurate if you called me your  _ little cousin, Lizzy _ \-- as Richard does, but if you do I will likely tease you dreadfully.” 

“I was very glad...Elizabeth, when my brother told me of your recovery,” replied Georgiana, halting but sincere, “It has caused Aunt Catherine and Anne great sadness, that you were gone.”    
  
“It is a sad subject, but not a sad ending, I hope-- we will have a much more cheerful future, I believe. Your own Mama has had an important part to play in bringing us together again, we owe her a debt of gratitude. I should be obliged if you will direct me to a portrait of her while I am here-- I am curious to see her. Mama does not think they were very like, but then neither are Anne and me.”   
  
Georgiana seemed to find this speech moving enough to respond directly without having to summon up courage. “The most  _ recent _ one taken was the year before my birth-- Fitzwilliam is with her in that one, it is in the gallery upstairs.”

Georgiana and Anne both smiled at Elizabeth’s surprised pleasure upon first seeing the garden room, she stood still in the entrance and looking up at the glass ceiling turned on the spot to admire it.    
  
“What a remarkable house this is-- do you spend much time in here, cousin? I should if I were you, on every rainy day there was that prevented me from going outdoors-- it is as though nature were inside the house.” 

“She cannot spend very much time in here, Elizabeth,” answered Darcy for his sister, he had moved closer to the three ladies and stood smiling at her, “for I will not tolerate her having the pianoforte moved in here and she must needs be at her music for much of the day.” 

“But music would be just the thing to hear in such a room as this! You must reconsider your intolerance, Mr. Darcy.”   
  
“Must I? Georgiana herself raised the problem of it being a little damper in here than the music room and she will not risk the Erard will you, sister?”   


“A harp might do better in here than a pianoforte,” suggested Anne, “we could hide you in the corner with it, Georgiana-- between a duo of potted plants. It would be charming, I agree with Lizzy.”   
  
“You are so very loyal, dear,” smiled Elizabeth, “but Mr. Darcy is correct, I had not considered that a change in room might cause damage to an instrument. It is a pity, for I can just imagine soft music playing-- something by Mozart perhaps while one may sit, just on that chaise over by the window, and read a book.”   
  
“It is a pretty idea,” answered Darcy, “you almost convince me to order a harp specifically for it.”

“You like Mozart, cousin?” asked Georgiana. 

“I am ready to listen to his music at any opportunity, but I fear he and I do not get on at all well if I must be the one to perform. I understand that you play and sing-- and well too if Mama’s praises are anything to go by, she does not speak lightly of your accomplishments.” Elizabeth saw that the subject brought a dread over the younger girl, who clearly feared being ordered to the pianoforte by her intimidating Aunt. She changed the subject, not requiring any reply from the girl and received a grateful look as her reward. Mr. Darcy stood by and she made her next remarks to him, “There is so much here that I should like to see, cousin-- your ancestors did you a very great favour in building such a house as this.”   
  
“You approve of it then?” he asked, a little eagerly.

“Have you ever met anyone so foolish as to  _ not _ approve, Fitzwilliam?” 

He considered the matter, “There have been one or two rare visitors that consider the location a little remote for their tastes. One, in particular, did not find Pemberley comfortable.”   
  
“But we need not consider  _ him _ ,” said Anne, in the arctic tone of voice that was reserved for speaking of Sir Lewis de Bourgh.   
  
“No,” agreed Darcy, “we need not. Now Elizabeth,” he said with gentle gallantry, “you must be the one to direct us to that which you wish to see. My house is at your disposal, you have only to name an object or a room and you will be taken thence.”   
  
Elizabeth laughed, “but it is a proposal that will surely open me to ridicule! I cannot direct when I have no knowledge of what is here. I might ask to see the dungeons and be disappointed should there be a lack. All I am certain of is that you possess an avenue of Spanish Chestnut trees and a portrait gallery. I own that I am curious to see the gallery, sir but quite... _ desperate _ to have you show me those trees.” 

“But why should you be so eager to see the trees, cousin?” asked Georgiana, shyly-- “they are pretty enough at this time of year but they are at least a mile walk to reach.”   
  
“Oh, I had not realised they should be so far-- how disappointing, it will be too far for Mama and Anne-- are you fond of walking Georgiana?”   
  
“I generally prefer to ride, Elizabeth, but I am willing to accompany you to the trees if you so wish it.”   
  
“Not at all!” exclaimed Lizzy, I should not impose on you for the world-- perhaps you might show me the gallery now and Mr. Darcy might engage to walk with me to that avenue. Your brother and I set a good pace together, you know-- he was invaluable to me as a companion at Rosings.” She looked about her, “There, have I managed us all so much that I have become insufferable?”   
  
Georgiana looked alarmed and made to disclaim but she quickly saw that her brother was smiling and so calmed herself. 

“You know full well that you could not be insufferable if you tried, Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy. Anne looked at him sharply and her eyebrows raised at her sister’s blush.    
  
“The portrait gallery then,” she said quickly, taking Lizzy’s arm, “Mama, Uncle, do you mean to come with us?”

Lady Catherine and the earl being agreeable, the party made their way upstairs together and turned in to a long gallery. 

“This is yet another delightful room, cousins. When we were young, at Longbourn, we were used to play at cloish and the like in the music room-- we would roll the carpet back if it was snowing heavily and have a marvellous time. Did you ever do so here? It is wide enough that you could have managed an entire game of cricket, were you so inclined.”   
  
“Too many windows, niece,” said Matlock, practically. 

“Ah yes, I was forgetting the windows,” said Elizabeth, inspecting the portraits as they walked along slowly. “This gentleman is very like you, Fitzwilliam-- though not  _ so _ handsome, I do not think, but there is a distinct familial resemblance running throughout as we progress-- who is he?”   
  
“Thank you, he is our grandfather, Maximillian Darcy. Beside him you see my Grandmother-- she lived until she was seventy-three, she outlived her husband by some thirty years.”   
  
“I think she has the look of Georgiana about her-- or do I mean the reverse? Do you like to look up and see the resemblance, cousin? I had never done so in my life until I saw the portrait of Dorothea de Bourgh.”   
  
“I own that I had not thought of it,” answered Georgiana, surprised enough to answer without thinking too much about the number of people listening, “it has always been so for and me and thus I have never considered it in any way remarkable. Do you speak of the portrait that brought you all together again? It is a sweet tale, almost like something you would read in a book.”   


“Mama and Anne had already determined that I was a de Bourgh before Hubert brought the portrait. No, it was your own Mama’s blanket that she sent for me-- it survived extraordinarily well throughout the adventures of my extreme youth and I still have it.”   


“Mama fashioned them for all of the babies that were born to our family, Fitzwilliam has one and I have half of one. It is mostly complete but only the lace edging on one side is missing. Mama was very ill, you see, before I was born.”   
  
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. I know a little, what it is to grieve a Mama you have never known. When I was old enough to understand that I was adopted, and what that meant, I would sit quietly sometimes and think that she must surely have been the twin of me.”    
  
Lady Catherine laid a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder but did not speak. 

“But how maudlin I am becoming, you must forgive me! Who is this lady here? She looks familiar, although I cannot say how. The child with her is so well favoured too.”   
  
“That is Anne Darcy.”   
  
“Oh! I see now-- the height of Georgiana, a little of the expression of my sister and-- yes, Mama, you both have the same shaped chin. I too shall claim my share in her, for I see that my colouring is identical.”

“I wish you had been so willing to see it in April, Elizabeth-- it might have saved me the irritation of summoning Hubert.”   
  
“I was not ready to see it, Mama-- but now that I  _ know _ , it is inescapable I think. Poor Mr. de Bourgh-- he has not been seen nor heard of since.”   
  
“He wrote a letter last month, actually.”   
  
“Did he indeed? What did he have to say for himself?”   
  
“How should I know, Darcy? I put it directly into the fire.”

“Well, I have seen Aunt Anne, to whom I owe so much, and I should like to come one day and stare at her for a long while, but not now I think.”   
  
Mr. Darcy offered her his arm, “we will go back to the garden room then, and partake of refreshments. After you have had sufficient nourishment you and I will walk out together.”    
  
  
  
  
  



	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for an increase of tension but nothing greater than that you would find in Pride and Prejudice. 
> 
> Also, I have been hammering away at this rather than responding to comments-- I'm about 100 behind, sorry! I thought this might be a better use of time.
> 
> It is my privilege to be able to post so often and I am glad of the coincidence of timing that leads it to be a nice moment of cheer for those of facing uncertain times. I wish you all well and stay safe.

“You have heard nothing from Mr. Bingley, then I assume, Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth asked as they walked side by side. She looked sometimes at the beautiful surroundings that they went through but more often at him.   
  
“Not as yet, it would be a little soon you know-- even taking into consideration that I sent the letter by express.”   
  
“Yes, Anne said as much-- I fear I am impatient for news. The longer the time that elapses since I last heard from Longbourn, the greater my worry. If aught is amiss, why would I not be told?”   
  
Mr. Darcy shook his head and took her hand, “It does no good to think on such lines, Elizabeth-- depend upon it Bingley will write to me soon, he may be, in general, an unreliable letter writer but there is no fellow better than he for being of assistance.”   
  
“I can think of one,” smiled Elizabeth, raising her hand to lightly touch his face.

He looked quickly at her and then away again, “I used to find you quite dangerously engaging in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth-- and  _ then _ you disliked me. I do not think I have any possible defence now that you have decided I am an object of dalliance.”   
  
“Oh, Fitzwilliam! What defence have you any need for? I cannot think of any reason you must guard yourself against me. My gratitude for the time you have given me will not change the outcome. I take your happiness quite seriously and if I am to one day have any official responsibility for it then it will be my most pressing priority  _ now _ to make you happy.”   
  
She watched eyes flick to her mouth and then deliberatley back to the path ahead of them again and Lizzy smiled knowingly.   
  
“I know what you are thinking, Fitzwilliam.”   
  
“I hope not,” he answered with unusual fervour.   
  
“Oh, now you have excited my curiosity-- I think that you are going to repeat your shocking behaviour from the box garden the other day. Or,” she added, still smiling, “at least I hope so.”

“ _ My _ shocking behaviour?”

“Well--” she acknowledged, “I  _ may _ have begun it but once having begun, you did carry things on charmingly.”

“Does Anne know of our, what did you call it? our  _ unarrangement _ ?”

“I have not told her.”   
  
“She is remarkably astute, I suppose you have already realised that.”   


“Anne is very like Mama-- neither of them will stand to be in the dark about anything.”    
  
“You do not like secrets either-- I believe it is partially this that has added to your worry for your family at Longbourn.”   
  
“You are correct, of course. I cannot tell you how it makes me feel, when you refer to them as such, Fitzwilliam.”

He shook his head, “I cannot take any credit for seeing what I ought to have seen from the first. It will be a long-held regret of mine-- that I did not see things properly.” He stopped walking rather suddenly, “Elizabeth,” she looked at him inquiringly, “Elizabeth-- has your mother ever told you what I thought, what I said when she raised the possibility of your being her daughter?

“No-- why should she have done?” 

“It shames me now. I want to make a clean breast of it, for there to be no secrets between us. I love you-- quite completely, but you must know what a brute I was before you...well, I ought to have told you at Matlock, but I lost my head a little. There is nothing official between us, nothing that ties you to me-- I must tell you, even though I may soon wish it unsaid.”   
  
“‘Then you had better say it, Fitzwilliam-- do so quickly please, you are alarming me.”   
  
He recommenced walking, “I suggested that all might be a ploy, that you-- and the Bennets-- may have somehow discovered the sad tale of my Aunt’s lost daughter and… It was wrong of me, very wrong of me. Even when pressed by Lady Catherine I hesitated to accuse you-- I believe I knew in my heart that I was in error but my pride and conceit would not allow me to admit it. I am sorry.”   
  
Elizabeth frowned but did not release his hand, “If I apply  _ quite _ diligently, I am able to see some sort of a twisted up compliment in that, Fitzwilliam. Your belief in my scheming mind leads me to think you must have thought me very clever-- but perhaps that is my vanity speaking.”   
  
Mr. Darcy blinked, not quite having expected this response. “I have always known you were clever but--”

“And furthermore,” she interrupted, “your confession shows a complete change of opinion. You admit that you were in the wrong and have apologised. What more is there to be said?”   
  
“Nothing, apparently,” he said slowly, “Tell me, Elizabeth-- is this benign spirit the work of new affection or is it likely that we will have a long and unconflicted life, should you choose to marry me?

“You are wondering why I have not thrown something at your head.”   
  
“In essence, yes.”   
  
“There is nothing currently to hand,” she said, as seriously as she was able, then unable to remain sombre, laughed. “Fitzwilliam-- I love you,  _ dearly _ . When I apologised for throwing that marble apple at you and said that I had not behaved so before, I  _ meant _ it. I am not, I do not believe, a violent woman. I was frightened, my dear, and quite overwhelmed-- your threat to the Bennets made me behave so, I believe.” She rose on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, “We will not quarrel for the greater share of the blame for that morning.”   
  
“Aunt Catherine would probably claim that she behaved the best of all of us.” 

“She always does, does she not? She is a  _ Fitzwilliam _ , after all-- a superior family and quite unable to behave reprehensibly.” She paused thoughtfully, “I do wonder if she feels my uncle is an exception, for she scolds him just as dreadfully as if he were Mr. Collins.”

“The Earl has the misfortune to have been born a man.”   
  
“She doesn’t dislike  _ you _ .”   
  
“That does not follow that she believes I would not have been greatly improved if I had been a lady.”

“ _ I _ like you as you are,” said Elizabeth, rising up again on her toes but this time with no intention of pressing a kiss to his cheek.    
  
He met her halfway and then having kissed her raised his head, “We have reached the avenue, by the by.” 

Elizabeth, her fingers at his nape, pulled his head closer to her again, “it is very much by the by,  _ do _ concentrate, Fitzwilliam.”   


He was quite willing to oblige her.

The pair did not linger very long there, Darcy at least was aware that Lady Catherine’s wrath would fall heavily upon him if he did not return her daughter within a reasonable time. Lizzy did not help matters much, for she had decided that she required a great many kisses from him on the walk back, she laughed at his reluctance.

They found the rest of the party in the music room, Georgiana had apparently been prevailed upon to play and was nervously performing under Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s exacting eye. Darcy and Elizabeth waited until she had played the last notes before entering into her line of sight.    
  
Lizzy applauded, “I see none of the praise has been exaggerated, cousin-- you do play very well.”

Georgiana blushed. “Thank you, cousin.”   
  
“Did you approve of the trees, Elizabeth?” asked Anne, reaching out her hand. 

Lizzy took it and sat beside her sister, “Oh yes-- there were a great many! I am sure there must have been at least forty trees.”   
  
“Only Twenty, Elizabeth,” corrected Darcy, with a warning look.    
  
“Were there so few? It must have been their size and grandeur that made me lose count. Still, I am sure they must be my favourite part of Pemberley so far.”   
  
“Wanted to see the box garden, didn’t you?” said Matlock, helpfully winking at his nephew.

“Oh?” said Elizabeth innocently, “Is there a box garden at Pemberley? Do you mean to show it to me, cousin? I should  _ so _ love to see it. I really am very fond of box gardens.”   


“Perhaps later, I am sure you must be thirsty,” responded Darcy, seeming unruffled.   
  
Lizzy toyed with the fringe of her shawl and looked at him through her lashes, “I am  _ sure _ if you say I am thirsty then I must be so.” 

Anne pinched her sister on the hand and leant in a little closer, “I hope you do not think you are being discreet.”   
  
“Do you think that my intention?” Elizabeth’s spirits were infectious and Anne could not forebear a smile.    


“It does not seem like it can be, but Mama is about to drag Darcy off to ask  _ his _ intentions. If you like the man you would be well advised to be a little less evident in your enthusiasm.”

A servant entered the room bearing the tea tray, he was followed by the butler who stepped close to his master and murmured something inaudible. Mr. Darcy nodded and dismissed him. 

“Excuse me please, I must leave you for a few moments. Georgiana, would you see that our guests have their tea? I will return shortly.”   
  
He then quit the room and those left behind wondered what had taken him from it.

“Little doubt it is the colonel-- he will have come early to Pemberley in order to surprise us all. I do not know that I approve of young men not adhering to an already stated schedule. It shows a want of steadiness.” 

“I do not think it can be my son, Catherine-- he was supposed to have business with his General today.”   
  
“Perhaps it is the viscount?” suggested Georgiana. 

“Unlikely,” replied Anne-- more aware than her younger cousin of the reasons behind Matlock’s eldest son being sent off to Europe. 

Elizabeth, whose guess was more accurate than either of these suggestions, remained quiet and sipped at the tea that Georgiana poured for her. 

“Is your tea acceptable, Elizabeth?” 

“Oh, yes, you need not have any concerns over that-- it is just how I like it. You make an admirable hostess, cousin.”   
  
Georgiana looked down at her hands, “I thank you, you are kind-- I fear that I am not so confident as I ought to be.”   
  
“You are young yet,” replied Lizzy, “we women grow more confident as the years pass-- look at Mama, by the time she is eighty she will be unshakeable.”

She achieved her object and saw with some satisfaction that Georgiana had a merry laugh when prompted. 

Mr. Darcy returned to the room looking grave and made his way directly to Lizzy and sat beside her. She set her teacup down.    
  
“Is it as I suspected? Has Mr. Bingley sent a reply?” she asked rapidly, all humour deserting her. “Do not keep anything from me, Fitzwilliam-- are they all well?”

He nodded and to her great surprise took her hand, Anne on the other side of her, ever watchful, instantly took the other. 

“You were right, yes-- I fear that it is my task to bear you bad news, my dear. Bingley has just sent me this letter-- you may read it if you like but it may be better for me to read it to you.”    
  
Lizzy looked at the scrawl on the paper and nodded at him, “could you perhaps tell me the import of it, Darcy? I do not think I have the patience for suspense-- I know that there are ill tidings to come and I  _ must _ know soon… there is no one  _ dead _ is there?”   
  
“No, nothing like that, you must forgive me-- I ought to have made that clear.” He looked at Georgiana-- “you may leave the room if you wish, though I shan’t make you. I must speak the name of one whom I should rather never speak of again in this house.”   
  
Pale and concerned, Georgiana understood but shook her head, “I will stay.”   
  
“Very well.”

Lizzy looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Bingley writes that your youngest sister has left all her friends in Brighton and has left in the company of one Mr. Wickham-- he is now wanted for desertion but cannot be found. Her last letter was written to the wife of the Colonel in whose house she was staying-- Mrs. Forster. It seems she held the belief that Wickham intended to take her to Gretna Green but there is no trace of them, neither in Scotland nor on any road in that direction.” 

“Where _is_ she then?” asked Lizzy, not really expecting an answer but unable to help herself from wondering aloud.   
  
“Bingley seems to think she is in London, that is Mr. Bennet’s assumption. He is already there and searching for her.” 

Her eyes filling with tears and fear setting in, Elizabeth asked her next question with some trepidation, “Does Mr. Bingley say why I was not told? Why has there been silence? How could they not have written to  _ me--  _ am I not also Lydia’s sister? _ ” _

“The only explanation for that Bingley offers for that is that there was some misguided intention to protect you from any consequence if she was not found.”

“Not found!” exclaimed Lady Catherine, who had been listening and attentively watching her daughter for signs of distress, “ _not_ _found--_ I will not _permit_ that to be so.”  
  



	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Yep, still behind on answering comments but still appreciating that you lovely readers are still reading. :)   
> Life is back to normal for me now (as normal as it gets for anyone these days, anyway) so we are looking at a lessening of the posting pace.   
> This is a brief chapter (it was horribly hard to write for some reason) but necessary and the following chapters should flow more easily. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!

Darcy spoke, “If I were to depart within the hour I can be in London by tomorrow morning-- I have some idea of searching out Mrs. Younge, she is the woman who was complicit in Wickham’s last crime of this nature. I believe they have an acquaintance of long-standing.”

“Yes,” said Catherine, “an excellent thought, finding them must be the first step-- but we must also consider what is to be done in the next.”   
  
“Done?” said Matlock, a little blankly, “there is nothing to be  _ done _ , Catherine, but to make them marry!” 

His sister looked at him a little pityingly. “Leave this to  _ me _ , brother-- we women are peculiarly suited to looking well ahead. I shall leave nothing out and once they are found, you may depend upon it that it will all be arranged satisfactorily.”

Matlock was nettled and so lowered himself to sarcasm, “By which, I suppose, you mean to imply that we men are useless lumps and we lack your  _ great _ and extensive vision.” Lady Catherine looked to be considering this and he forged ahead before she could agree. “You really ought to leave this business to Darcy and I, you know-- we  _ men _ will see it done.” Darcy raised his brows and looked significantly at Elizabeth, who had her head bowed. Matlock checked his irritation and approached the sofa and patted Lizzy lightly on the cheek-- “You need not fear, niece-- return to Matlock and help your Mama choose some very pretty flowers for your ball. Darcy and I will be back within the week and we may all forget this unpleasantness.”   
  
“You intend to make them marry and then leave the task halfway complete, Matlock?” 

“In  _ what _ way would that be incomplete?”   
  
“There is no need to raise your voice, brother. If you do not know, then I shall not tell you but you have only proved that it is I that will have the handling of this. I will not be gainsaid.” The matter closed she turned to Darcy and diligently ignored the red-faced earl. “Nephew, you will be on your way and locate Wickham-- I will return to Matlock and continue on with the arrangements for the ball. We must appear to the outward world as though there is nothing whatsoever amiss. Elizabeth, my dear daughter, dry your eyes-- Mama will ensure that this does not harm you.”

“May I come with you, mother? I may be of some help-- Lydia can be...headstrong."

Matlock, whose irritation with sister rarely lasted long, let out a sharp crack of laughter at that and held up his hands when the company looked at him in surprise. “However _headstrong_ Miss Lydia Bennet might be, I’ll lay you a wager that my sister will have her docile as a lamb in half a minute. Very well, Cathy, I’ll let you have your own way, never worked out how to get you to admit defeat in any events.”   
  
“Of course you have not, nor will you,” she answered, “When does the colonel return? I have a use for him while Darcy is in London. I will remain at Matlock for the present, Elizabeth, it may be that my presence is required in London, but I hope not.”

Resigned, once again, to his sister having the last say in a matter, Matlock gave up. “He is with his General today but intends to depart from London tomorrow morning, so far as I am aware.”

Quietly, Anne spoke, “There must be something we can do, Mama-- Elizabeth will not like to sit at Matlock while Darcy sallies forth to find Miss Lydia, I am sure of it.”   
  
“And yet I am sure Mama will remind us that sometimes the onerous task is the necessary one. I will do as Mama and Mr. Darcy suggest, if that is to remain at Matlock and pretend all is well-- then that is what I will do. I suppose there is no difficulty in me writing to Longbourn? Anne will bear me company in Derbyshire-- perhaps Georgiana may visit us, Mr. Darcy? If you are to leave here on my behalf the very least I may do is to be of use in that respect.”

Darcy looked at Georgiana, who looked shyly hopeful-- “shall you like to stay a week at Matlock, my dear? I do not like to leave you again but I would be content if Elizabeth and Anne were with you.”   
  
“Do come, Georgiana-- Elizabeth will likely get quite carried away with plans for the ball if we are not there to check her.”

“Thank you, I should like that.” 

“That is all settled then, Darcy-- I should like a word in your ear before you leave. Anne and Elizabeth will assist my niece with her preparations. Matlock, you may stay, I may have need of your influence in a small matter.”    


The girls knew a dismissal when they encountered one and left the room, Elizabeth pausing to cast a grateful look at Mr. Darcy and to plant a sweet kiss of thanks on her mother’s brow. There was no time to have any speech with him, no time to tell him that her heart had felt painfully tight when he had so quickly offered to find her sister. What was Lydia to him? Nothing! There was no familial bond between any of them in this room-- it was only that she loved the Bennets and because of  _ that _ they would all leap to her aid. 

It took little time at all for Georgiana to be ready to leave and Darcy waited only to hand her up into the carriage before he mounted the horse that the groom held in readiness for him. The ladies could see him for a little while as they drove from Pemberley woods, but after that, he was gone. Georgiana looked unhappy and Elizabeth tried to smile encouragingly at her. However low her own spirits, however fearful she was for Lydia and all of the Bennets, she recognised in Georgiana a devoted heart. 

“You miss him when he is gone.”   


“Yes, I beg your pardon, I had not intended to look so glum-- do not think I am not grateful to be coming with you to Matlock, it is merely that I do not like to be apart from brother.”   
  
“I can comprehend it better than you might know, Georgiana. He is an ideal man, is he not?”   
  
“Oh, yes! He is very kind to me and there is not a better man in all the world, I know it.”   
  
“I think that even Mama has acknowledged that-- you will not find us attempting to argue with you. I have little experience of living with men, Papa --Mr. Bennet, that is, was the only gentleman in a household of ladies at Longbourn and I am very fond of him,” she frowned momentarily and added, “even if I am quite furious with him.”   
  
“Are you?” asked Georgiana, “why?”   


Elizabeth considered, “I perhaps should not have said it.”   
  
“Better to have it out, Elizabeth-- than to let it fester,” said Lady Catherine, who had been deep in thought, “anger does not do well thus.”   
  
Lizzy sighed, “I can hardly believe that not one person wrote to me of this-- not even  _ Jane _ , not even when I wrote of my suspicions that I had seen Lydia in London. I am...I scarcely know which feeling is the stronger, my hurt or my anger.”

Georgiana surprised her by softly replying, “I found, last summer, that the former greatly intensifies the latter.”    
  
“You are wise beyond your years, cousin. Mayhap that I am feeling both in equal measure then. I do not need to establish which I am feeling the more of at any given moment-- the more I think on it, the more my feelings shift. Then I think of Lydia--  _ poor _ Lydia!”   
  
“If brother can find her, I can attest to the fact that it is possible for one to recover from Mr. Wickham.”   
  
Anne was watching her mother, “I wonder if perhaps the question, in this case, will be if Mr. Wickham recovers from crossing swords with Mama.”   
  
Lizzy managed a weak laugh, “No, Anne-- do you not remember? Mama would not use a sword, you would engage to stick a hatpin in him, would you not?”

Lady Catherine shook her head, “Swords have their place in life, it is true, but I have no requirement to resort to one.”

Anne smiled, “if Mama insists upon seeing Mr. Wickham herself we shall send her off wearing a splendid hat and dozens of hatpins.”

“I do not currently see any necessity for me to see the man, Anne-- if Richard bungles his part in the matter, then I may do so but I trust it will not come to that.”   
  
“Do you have a plan already in mind, Mama? If Mr. Darcy finds Lydia?”

“Several of them, my daughter.”   
  
Lady Catherine did not elaborate and after waiting for a moment or two for more information, Elizabeth tried a different tack.

“And they must marry. It is a pity that she cannot be spared it-- it does not seem just that she should suffer a lifetime with a man of such little principle. Does any girl deserve such a fate? I think not.”   
  
Her mother shook her head and would not be pressed any further. 

  
  
  


  
  
  
  


  
  



	39. Chapter 39

“I wish that I could fathom out Mr. Wickham’s motivation, Mama,” said Elizabeth that evening after bidding Anne and Georgiana a good nights rest. She had gone to retire herself but just as her maid was laying out her nightgown she had abruptly left the room in search of Lady Catherine. “You must know him better than I-- can it be that he preys upon the young and vulnerable or do you suppose there to be other reasons behind this?”   


“This, my dear Elizabeth, is where we women have the advantage over men.”   
  
“Mama?” 

“Did you once hear your uncle or even Darcy pursuing such a line of thought? No, of course not, Matlock especially is only interested in the cure for the situation, not the root cause of it. I am pleased to see your thoughts so like mine, it bodes well. Men seem to be so oblivious.”

“Mr. Darcy has very kindly inconvenienced himself greatly on my behalf, Mama. I am indebted to him.” Elizabeth could not help but feel defensive of him, “I am equally indebted to you though-- for whatever  _ mysterious _ plans you have concocted.”   
  
Lady Catherine de Bourgh did not apologise. “I have reasons, good reasons, for keeping silence with regard to my intentions Elizabeth-- it may be that I must adapt one or two of them depending upon the circumstances. If Hubert cannot be worked upon for example, then I must take a different approach.”   
  
“ _ Hubert _ ? Hubert de Bourgh? What can  _ he _ possibly have to do with the matter?”

Her mother blinked, and then sighed heavily, “I had not intended to mention him. Ask me no more my dear, I will tell you as much as I am able to once I can speak with more certainty. Imagine how disappointed you must be if I shared my ideas with you only for them to fail. I would spare you false hope if I could.”   
  
“Oh, Mother,” Lizzy spoke softly and with tenderness, “I am so thankful for you this day. You have clearly every intention of helping my sister and I...I cannot express how--”

“Then express nothing. I have many reasons to assist where I can-- I am aware that my position in society puts me at an advantage and with that advantage comes the responsibility to be of use. If my affection for  _ you _ is the driving force behind my efforts it is not remarkable, particularly when I consider Mrs. Bennets plight.” She looked grim and Lizzy realised that it had been some time since she had habitually thought of her mother as severe. 

“You recognise the worry of a mother whose daughter is separated from her.”

“Yes. I envied Mrs. Bennet her memories of your youth, Elizabeth. The time she was able to spend with you when it ought to have been  _ I _ who watched you grow...you look surprised, I suppose it did not occur to you that I might feel so.”   
  
“I had not thought of it, madam.”   
  
“Regardless of that envy Elizabeth, I owe her a great debt-- she cared for you as her own. You were safe and well-taken care of-- given the harrowing fears that plagued me as to what might have been your fate, I am grateful to her. Now I am an in a position to ease  _ her _ concerns and I mean to do so. You need not feel gratitude to me, my dear-- protecting you and Anne must always be the first priority with me.”

“You believe that a scandal could cause us harm, then?”   
  
Lady Catherine nodded, “You more so than Anne-- she has no desire to wed, but it might harm your prospects.”   
  
“Anne was surprised that my uncle did not suggest that I must cut the Bennets off.”

Her mother raised her brows, “Anne has very little notion of when not to speak, I cannot think where she has learned to be so blunt.” She waited for Elizabeth to conceal her smile more convincingly and then continued, “Matlock was overruled by Darcy-- he would not hear of it.”   
  
“ _ Really _ ? What did he say?”

“You sound a little too eager to hear of the private conversation between your cousin and my brother. I note that you two have buried whatever differences were in existence between you by the time Darcy took himself off from Rosings.”   


“It is natural for me to want to know by what manner Mr. Darcy persuaded my uncle. How dreadful that the earl would even think that I  _ would  _ abandon the family that raised me.”

“His reasoning, for once, was sound-- he feared that given the gossip already circulating about your restoration, that even a whiff of scandal might prove too much for any future suitors to ignore. Darcy informed him that you would  _ not _ be asked to cut the Bennets off-- he said, in a fine fit of temper, that any suitor to your hand put off by Miss Lydia’s situation did not deserve you at any rate.”   
  
“Did he?” asked Lizzy, sounding inordinately pleased. 

“Hmm. Matlock promised that he would not even raise the subject with you if Darcy would consider offering for you himself. I do not see what is so very entertaining about your uncle’s slowness, Elizabeth.”   
  
“I beg your pardon, mother. Do go on--what did Mr. Darcy reply to that?”

“He seemed to think that you’d not have him, or at least that is what my brother thought he meant. Matlock subjected Darcy to all manner of silly suggestions for how to woo you. Our father would have approved for he seemed to think that all Darcy needed to do was treat you with a firm hand and you would capitulate.”   
  
“The earl cannot have realised that I am very much your daughter then, Mama. I am surprised Fitzwilliam did not laugh at him, but I suppose he was in a great hurry.”   
  
“He came close to it judging by the way he would not look directly at us. Your aunt was the same, I never caught her eye in public for fear she would forget herself and dissolve into a fit of the giggles.”   
  
“Did she ever do so?”   
  
“It was a close-run thing at her own wedding. I wrote to her afterwards to give her a prodigious scolding for it.”

Lizzy smothered a yawn, “I must do similarly Mama, and write to Longbourn to give  _ them _ a scolding.” She rose and pressed a tired kiss to Lady Catherine’s brow, “You did not say what reason you thought Mr. Wickham might have had to run off with Lydia.”   
  
“Greed is a possibility. It is likely that he had heard that you are a de Bourgh after all and he tried his hand at extortion with Darcy. Perhaps he thought that you might be worked upon out of affection for the Bennet family. There is also the likelihood that there is not merely one motive-- if Miss Lydia was willing to go with him, well, he is not a man to deny himself in the interests of others. He has ever been self-serving.”   
  
“You do not think Mr. Darcy will attempt to fight him, do you?”   
  
“Darcy?” Her mother sounded a little surprised, “I should be astounded to find that he considered the man worthy as an opponent. You will have noticed that your cousin has a very proper sense of his worth.”   
  
“Oh, yes. I had not thought of that,” replied her daughter with an edge of relief.

“Not, of course, that many would mourn George Wickham, as I made clear last year.” She saw that her daughter was watching her carefully and waved Elizabeth away, “now, to bed with you, my dear. That walk to the chestnuts has quite worn you out.”

_ Matlock _

_ Dear Papa, Mama and all my sisters at Longbourn,  _ __

_ Having still had no response to my last, I must write again, now with the knowledge that my youngest sister has left all her friends and thrown herself into Mr. Wickham’s power. I am indebted to Mr. Bingley for my knowledge of this. He at least did not permit precious time to elapse before passing on important information to my cousin, who then, seeing that I have a right to know, told me. _ __

_ Have you forgotten that I proudly bore the name Bennet for twenty years of my life?  _

_ Perhaps you have not recollected that it was Jane and I who held Lydia’s hands when she was learning to walk, that soon after that we danced with her and practised our curtseys together.  _

_ Need I write an angry lecture to you, teaching you that Lydia Bennet is my sister regardless of blood? How could you keep me in ignorance of her danger? I am so deeply hurt by your silence, yes, even silence from Jane, that I am not so wise in my words as I ought to be.  _

_ I wish I were at Longbourn with you, my presence might ease things in some way.  _

_ Mr. Darcy has ridden to London in order to seek out Mr. Wickham and Lydia-- he does so on my behalf, you will owe him nothing. I hope that he is successful. Once they are found, Mama and the Earl of Matlock mean to see things arranged to their satisfaction. I believe there to be no alternative solution but marriage--a fact that distresses me. Willing enough Lydia may have been to wed the man but I cannot foresee a happy life for her given his utter lack of principle. Such a consideration must be dispensed with, however, for if she does not marry now it will cause irreparable harm to my sisters who remain at home.  _

_ I trust that you are all well in health, if not in spirit, I will write again when I have news. _

_ Elizabeth de Bourgh. _

_   
_   
  



	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies-- I had a flurry of migraines this week and it absolutely wrecks any concentration I have. I've been sitting on this for a few days but unable to get it posted! 
> 
> My family and I are all well enough, in spite of being stuck in the house and garden, at least the weather is wonderful-- lots of time in the fresh air. It might amuse some of you to know that for the duration of the lockdown, we have borrowed three chickens to lay eggs for us (I like baking!).
> 
> They came unnamed and thus I got to have fun, their names are...
> 
> Eggness Grey
> 
> Elizabeth Hennet
> 
> wait for it...
> 
> Lady Catherine de Bwarrrk
> 
> Thank you so much for the lovely comments you left. I have decided that I will struggle to go back and answer them all now so I will try to answer newer comments from this chapter onwards. Perhaps I can go back and answer the others when FFTT is done.

_ Darcy House, London _

_ My dearest Elizabeth,  _

_ It felt wrong, to begin this letter to my aunt-- however solemnly she urged me that she be informed as soon as Miss Lydia was found, it is surely to you that I must report. Your health and happiness will always be of the utmost priority to me even if I must brave your mother’s displeasure for not having explicitly followed her instructions.  _

_ I arrived in London two days ago, it was a wearying ride but I slept well enough and awoke with a strong sense of purpose to begin the search. My first object was to locate Mrs. Younge, a woman of regrettably little honour. It was not a difficult task, a mere morning of enquiries resulted in the address of a boarding house in a region of London that your Mama would not wish you to set foot in.  _

_ My pen pauses here, Elizabeth, as it must always do so when what I have to impart will bring you pain, but I will not compromise honesty for palatability and you must know all. Mrs Younge is perhaps one of the few people that George Wickham would have claimed as ‘friend’ and were he of nobler character I might almost feel pity for him given that she so willingly sold me his whereabouts for the meagre sum of five pounds.  _

_ I then made my way with all haste to the location given and was relieved to discover that I had not been misled-- Mr. Wickham was indeed within but still abed at 5 o’clock in the evening, the landlord let slip that he had been drinking heavily the day previously. He did not mention your sister, a fact that caused me anxiety for her wellbeing until I went up to the room and she answered the door at my knock. _

_ Miss Lydia looked very surprised to see me and was greatly altered in spirit since I last saw her at Netherfield. She answered my enquiry about her health evasively and once I had explained that I was your cousin asked me with some relief if I was come to take her home. My mind was cast back to last year, my dear, when Georgiana asked me very much the same thing. I tried to answer gently, as I might if I were her brother in truth and not merely in hope. _

_ I left a lad to watch the door of the house and bore her off last evening to Gracechurch Street, it seemed to be the correct thing to do and your sister was ready to go to your Aunt and Uncle. She confided to me on the journey that had I come but a day earlier I should have had a very different reception. It seems that in his drunken state last evening, Mr. Wickham said some deeply unpleasant things to your sister that she found it impossible to explain away. He informed her that his design in persuading her to leave Brighton with him was to impose himself on your notice. She told me that when asked him if he had ever intended to marry her at all-- he had laughed at her and threatened to beat her if she spoke again that day. _

_ If any good came from this, it is that your sister required no persuading to leave Mr. Wickham’s company and to be brought back to her family. I have delivered her into the care of Mrs. Gardiner and your uncle-- both of whom I found agreeable and were circumstances different I might have engaged their conversation regarding your being brought from St. Bartholomews. I am grateful to them, Providence might have led them along, but it was surely their hands that assisted in the saving of your life. _

_ I called at Gracechurch Street once again this morning and informed the Gardiners that Mr. Wickham was at still at liberty at present but that I had two good men watching his movements. It seems that Miss Lydia revealed enough to Mrs. Gardiner last evening that it may prove necessary for her to marry-- not merely on account of the damage to her own reputation.  _

_ I am more sorry than I can say that I did not reveal Mr. Wickham’s true nature when I saw him in Meryton last year, I fear that both my silence and reserve have cost your sister dearly. I believe that she is well enough, but is greatly fearful of what the future will hold for her. _

_ I will leave it to you to relate what you deem fit to your mother. There is little doubt that her ladyship possesses the resolve to see things through but what remains in question is your own, and Miss Lydia’s likely satisfaction with the outcome that Lady Catherine has in mind. _

_ It surprises me still, how soothing a practice I find it to write to you, knowing that after a short delay you will hold my letter in your hand just as surely as you hold my whole heart.  _

_ Fitzwilliam Darcy.  _

Elizabeth finished the letter and without looking up asked in urgent tones, “Anne, where is Mama?”   
  
“She is standing directly behind you, Lizzy, waiting for you to finish reading so that she can find out what Darcy has to say. You are always quite oblivious to the goings-on in a room when he writes to you, although,” she mused, “in this case it is excusable.”   
  
“I do not recollect that I mentioned that letter was from Darcy, Anne.”   
  
“Anyone looking at your face could tell the letter was from him, my daughter,” answered Lady Catherine, impatiently, “I will spare you the embarrassment of handing the missive over and permit you to read only the pertinent parts.”

Gently, Lizzy addressed her young couisn, recollecting that if Fitzwilliam was acting as a brother to her sister, she must be equally as kind to his. “Georgiana-- do you wish to hear it? You need not, if you do not wish to.”   
  
“I thank you, cousin-- yes, I  _ must, _ I think.”

“Very well then. Essentially Mama, Mr. Darcy has found Lydia. He bribed Mrs. Younge and after that, it seems to have been a simple thing for him to find Mr. Wickham and my sister. There seems to have been no intention on his part to act honourably toward her. I wonder what can have happened for he says that she is altered and was glad to go with him to Gracechurch Street.” Elizabeth paused and looked meaningfully at Lady Catherine, “Mr. Darcy says that it is  _ necessary _ for them to marry, Mama.”   
  
This did not appear to phase her ladyship. “In plain terms, there may well be a child. Darcy was ever hesitant to speak of the distasteful realities of life. I see the colonel’s trip into Kent will not be in vain then, my dear. It is fortunate that I foresaw this eventuality.”   
  
“Colonel Fitzwilliam has gone to speak with Hubert de Bourgh?”

A regal nod was the only reply given and Elizabeth, a thought occurring to her, began to look nervous. “You do not intend for Lydia to marry  _ Hubert _ do you, Mama?”

“Of course I do not-- it would be exchanging one bad husband for another.” Lady Catherine waved her hand dismissively before briskly changing the course of the conversation. “Now, it seems that I must journey to London, do not fret I will return in time for your ball, Elizabeth, and I will bring Darcy with me. I must find my brother-- if he is asleep he must be wakened, ring the bell, Elizabeth, I have a need of him-- or at least his title. You three will be content here while I am gone?” 

“As if I mind the ball Mama-- it is your wellbeing that concerns me, must you indeed undertake such a long journey again? You were so tired when we arrived. May I not come with you?”

“ _ I _ mind your ball, were it to be anything less than you deserve I should be exceedingly displeased. This business with Miss Bennet has complicated matters but I see no reason why things should not be carried off well. You will remain here where you are safe, with Anne and my niece. I will write to you when all is resolved. You may continue on with the arrangements for the ball, remembering that it is my desire that everything should be in the very best of taste.”

“You had better abandon the plan for turning it into a masquerade, Lizzy,” said Anne in an undertone.   
  
“Thank you, Anne-- I have excellent hearing and you are well aware that I consider any disguised event to be vulgar in the extreme. I cannot suppose that your sister was serious.”   
  
“Oh no, she cannot have been-- she wants to dance with Darcy and if he were masked she should have trouble picking him out.”   
  
“I am sure I would have no such difficulty, sister-- I would simply look for the tallest gentleman in the room.”   
  
“Then you would inevitably end up flirting with Lord Salisbury, who is the taller of the two gentlemen. No, I beg you to abandon the plan, Elizabeth, it would not do.”   


“You know full well that I was jesting when I said it, Anne.”   
  
Watching her mother depart was an uncomfortable experience for Elizabeth, it was the first time since they had been reunited that there had been the necessity of bidding one another farewell. Lizzy stood by the window of the carriage after Matlock had handed his sister up and got in himself to sit opposite her.    
  
“Mama....Mama, I wish that you were not going. I feel-- I feel as though… I do not  _ like _ it.”   
  
“I will do what must be done for your sake Elizabeth, in this instance I must see to matters myself. I will be back soon, my love. Anne, look after your sister-- Georgiana, continue to practice your pianoforte while I am gone and see if you cannot persuade Elizabeth to attempt a duet. Now you must not stand and weep at the window, Elizabeth-- it is better for me to simply go and be done with it. These partings are so much more challenging when they are prolonged unnecessarily. Matlock, give the orders or I shall do so myself.”

The carriage drew off and Anne slipped an arm about her sister’s shoulders. Georgiana, greatly daring, took her cousin's hand and was rewarded by a watery smile. 

“We had better order a carriage Anne-- how else will we have sufficient masks for the ball if we do not go to the nearest town immediately.” Anne did not answer, accustomed by now to Elizabeth’s humour. Georgiana’s shocked expression made Elizabeth’s smile widen a little. “Calm yourself cousin, I was attempting to make myself laugh. How is it that I feel so crushingly miserable, Anne? Is this how Mama felt when I was gone so many years? Little wonder she was so fierce about convincing me that I must stay at Rosings. No, I must be wrong, it must have been far worse.”

“Do not speak of it, Lizzy, I beg you-- you will have me bawling my eyes out too, otherwise. Think of your silly idea for a masque and how outraged Mama would be if you  _ did _ accidently flirt with Lord Salisbury.”   
  
“Oh, Anne! I am almost minded to, it would horrify him though.”   
  
“And my brother.”   
  
Anne laughed at that, “It is your turn to be shocked now, Lizzy-- had you decided that Georgiana was too shy a mouse to say anything so bold as that?”   
  
“No-- for Fitzwilliam related some bold advice she gave him once, I have not told you how glad I was that you did so, cousin.” Elizabeth turned and made her way into the house, the other two young ladies falling into step beside her. “Anne-- it has occurred to me, did we not read that the royal family itself hosted a masquerade ball for the Prince’s wedding? I wonder that our mother dares to be so disdainful of them.”   
  
“Mama would dare anything, you know that. Besides, you must one day engage her on the subject of the Royal family-- she considers them to be far less well bred than even the poorest tenants at Rosings!”   
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  



	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter! :) 
> 
> Long live Queen Catherine.

The streets of London were well known for noise, those houses that stood proudly at the edges of the more fashionable areas claimed that heavy (and very expensive) curtains hung at the front windows assisted in diminishing the volume quite adequately. Within one such house, the silence therein meant that the three occupants of an elegant sitting room could hear, quite clearly, the clatter of horses hooves as they drew their masters to whichever home they were directed to. 

The master of the house and his Aunt barely noticed the interruption to their stillness but the young man before them found that his headache was greatly intensified by the noise outside and it made his peevishness all the greater. 

The lady regarded the fashionable young buck with distaste, it was evident that his intricately tied cravat and high shirt points found no favour with her. Hubert de Bourgh would have infinitely preferred to be elsewhere-- since he was in London at all he might have spent his time far more enjoyably at one of the clubs he liked to frequent. It was unfortunate that both the presence of Richard Fitzwilliam at his estate, when combined with the difficulty of his circumstances meant that he could not ignore Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s summons-- for summons they certainly were. It was regrettable, but he stood still, waiting impatiently for her to tell him what it was that she required. 

He waited, for the space of a minute before Lady Catherine slowly withdrew from her pocket a sheaf of papers and with precise, unhurried movements shuffled through them one by one. Mr. Darcy was stood behind her ladyship and had evidently never seen a tradesman’s polite reminder for payment in his life judging by the way he drew his brows together in disapproval and then glowered at Hubert.

Hubert would have liked to have given the self-righteous prig a set down but watching Mr. Darcy’s fingers twitch and remembering how they felt when they crushed his windpipe, he thought better of it.

At length, his late uncles’ dreadful wife addressed him. “You can be at no loss for the primary reason that I have summoned you here, Hubert. Your own conscience must tell you plainly.”

Hubert let out an irritated huff of breath, “Must this become an unpleasant matter, madam? I see clearly that you hold bills in your hands-- if you would oblige me, just in this trifling matter, I should be greatly in your debt.”

Mr. Darcy responded severely, “You have already made it an unpleasant matter-- de Bourgh, you did so when you had the temerity to direct your embarrassments to my aunt rather than settling them yourself.”   
  
“I suppose you’ve not ever found yourself in a tight spot, have you Darcy?” retorted Hubert, as hotly as he dared, “no, of course not-- richer than Croesus and you live the life of a monk no doubt. Never had affairs of honour to settle before you think of paying impudent tradesmen, eh?” Hubert’s tone was as contemptuous as the expression on Mr. Darcy’s face.   
  
Lady Catherine raised one of the pieces of paper-- “judging by this letter from Lady Metcalf, your affairs of dishonour are a little more pressing, are they not? No, Darcy, it is not at all necessary for you to defend your own good character, clearly, Hubert has no understanding of your nature-- nor can you comprehend  _ his _ apparent depravity. I do not mean to waste time today by listening to the two of you argue with one another.”

“You wish to tell me of a secondary reason that I have been dragged here by Colonel Fitzwilliam to attend your pleasure? I am at your disposal, your ladyship, as you well know.” 

Lady Catherine made no attempt to conceal her satisfied smile, “Yes, I rather thought that you were.” 

Hubert de Bourgh left Mr. Darcy’s London house some forty minutes later, with mixed feelings. He had the distinct feeling that he had been backed into a very unpleasant corner by a mere woman, albeit a ruthless one, and he did not like to have his view of the world so upended. Hubert looked across at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had his legs lazily propped up on the seat opposite him. Only a fool would suppose that this was prompted by any true lethargy, however, particularly when one had already felt the point of the colonels’ sword at his neck two days earlier. 

Hubert brought his fist down on the seat beside him, “you may put your legs down, sir-- I know well that you only have them propped up to block the door. I have no intention of making a run for it, as her ladyship knows full well. I’m not so sure she deserves to be called ‘lady’-- why shes a…”

Ordinarily, Richard Fitzwilliam sported a pleasant, amiable air about him-- to look at him in the street, one might think he was a harmless fellow and to hear him charm a lady it might never even cross the mind that he could look so threatening as he did now.

“I’d not complete that sentence if I were you, Hubert. I’m very fond of my Aunt and should hate to take measures to defend her but you must not mistake that for unwillingness. I like you far better sopping wet, I have decided, and we are temptingly close to the Thames.” 

“Oh, come man! Even you admit that she doesn’t behave as a  _ woman _ should.”

The colonel laughed at him, “depends on the woman, depends on the time. Did you never hear of Boudicea? I doubt many men would have said that she didn’t behave as she should.”   
  
“In the time of the savages! I think you have proven my own point.”   
  
“Not a bit of it, my point is that it is the time at fault, not my dear old aunt.”   
  
“Your dear old aunt is as merciless as a...as a…”   
  
“Yes?” said Richard, dangerously.

“Oh, I cannot think of a comparison-- but even a man might have been more understanding than she was today, even Bonaparte would have held a gun to my head with more grace.”

His companion laughed again, evidently much amused by Hubert’s discomfort. ‘Yes, she’s a marvel, isn’t she? Not an ounce of the weakness you’d find in a gentleman and twice as clever if you ask me. We’d do very well to put her in charge of the army.”   
  
Disgusted, Hubert sputtered, “Have you no sense of male pride, man?” 

He was not permitted to have the last word and was treated to another steely glance from the soldier, “Not when a weak little specimen of a male such as yourself is still stomping about England,  _ no _ . She’s worth a dozen of you and you’ve not even the wit to realise it.”

At his townhouse, Darcy removed himself from staring out of the window at his aunt’s behest. 

“You may dislike my methods Darcy, but you had far better say it plainly rather than by broodingly looking out at the street.”   
  
Frowning still, Darcy turned from the view of the street and regarded his aunt who was sat nibbling on a sweetmeat. She did not look as though she could callously give orders to men as though they were pawns and she a reigning queen.

“If I had known the nature of your plans, Aunt-- I should not have permitted you to come to London at all, let alone facilitated them.”   
  
“Of course you would not, why do you think I remained silent? Why do you think I did not breathe a word to Elizabeth? I am not a fool. I knew full well that I would be required for this stage of the proceedings and you must own that the outcome looks to be hopeful. Your scruples in carrying out my directions would have proven disastrously inconvenient.”   
  
He did not refute this. “Does it not trouble you, Aunt? To arrange matters so?”   
  
“My conscience, do you mean?” At his hesitant nod, she set her mouth in a firm line. “Let  _ me _ be the keeper of my conscience, Darcy. Your own is clear enough. You had better ring for the carriage, you are to escort me to call upon the Gardiners. I shall require some time alone with Miss Lydia Bennet-- you will support me, of course.”

Darcy looked irritated, “Madam, you know full well that I should not publically contradict anything you said, but do you think perhaps that in private you might allow me the pretence that I am master in my own house?”   
  
The thin line of her mouth relaxed a little and a sparkle entered his aunt’s eyes. “But of course, Nephew-- what do you propose we do next? Shall we perhaps sit and drink another cup of tea while Miss Bennet’s future is still uncertain before her? I am quite open to receiving any helpful suggestion that you have.”   
  
He stared at her for a long moment and then said mildly, “you are very like Elizabeth when you speak like that.” Mr. Darcy rose and rung the bell, ignoring as best he could, the evident amusement his aunt felt at his expense. “I do not know how I will face her after this.”   
  
With some asperity, Lady Catherine rose to her feet, “You will face her well enough when you see the good outcome for this Bennet chit. What I could not face Elizabeth with, would be the knowledge that I had pitchforked the girl into a marriage with a wastrel who will make a dreadful husband. I know, remember how well I know, what a fate that is. My daughter knows it also, even through scraps of information dropped here and there.”

Mr. Darcy nodded, evidently still troubled. “I see your reasoning, Aunt Catherine, even if...well, there is little point in discussing it. You will have your way and I do comprehend that for Miss Bennet at least, it will be better. You must allow me some discomfort, Aunt. George Wickham…” He trailed off and approached her, bending slightly to offer her his arm, “Well, the distant past hardly matters when a more recent wrong is the more prominent in our memories.”

Lady Catherine arose and lightly touched his cheek, “We will not need to deal with him again, Darcy. He will no more plague you nor my niece and Miss Lydia Bennet will have far fewer regrets than she might otherwise have done.”   
  
Darcy frowned again, “Do not remind me. I am not yet wholly reconciled to this.” He drew a deep fortifying breath and thought of Elizabeth, “Nevertheless, we had better go to Gracechurch Street-- if the thing is done, it makes little sense to waste time in relieving Miss Lydia’s mind from her fears.” 

As ever when matters were arranged to her liking, his aunt was pleased to smile up at him and lightly pat him on the hand. 

“To call upon the Gardiners, Darcy? What a  _ good _ idea.”   
  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  



	42. Chapter 42

To Mrs. Gardiner, Lady Catherine was disposed to be gracious and thus, when introducing his Aunt to the inhabitants of the neat house on Gracechurch Street, Darcy found that he had no great cause to be ashamed of his aunt’s manners. 

“It is to you, Mrs. Gardiner to whom I owe a good deal of gratitude.” Lady Catherine de Bourgh said with her usual steady dignity. She was not an effusive woman by nature, nor did he possess the same sweetness of manner that characterised Elizabeth, but her ladyship was well practised in condescension. “My daughter certainly owes the relative comfort of her upbringing to your taking her to Longbourn. It was a profound relief to me, once I saw her again, to know that she had at least been brought up as a lady. I am of the opinion that good breeding will reveal itself in any sphere of life but Mr. Bennet being a landed gentleman has made Elizabeth’s transition easier than it might have been.”

Privately, Mrs. Gardiner wondered what Lizzy would make of such a statement and inclined her head. She spoke of Elizabeth with genuine affection, “I am relieved that...Miss de Bourgh has not found the change so very great, she is such a dear girl that one cannot help but wish for only joy to exist in her life. Would your ladyship care to sit down? Mr. Darcy, you are once again welcome, sir-- I am afraid Mr. Gardiner has had to attend to his business today, it could not be avoided. My niece has not left her bed this morning.”   
  
Mr. Darcy, with Elizabeth’s love for her relatives in mind, deliberately gentled his voice and attempted to do away with a little of his habitual reserve of manner. “Madam, I believe that my cousin would prefer to be referred to as you have done so in the past. She has spoken of you with fondness-- I cannot but help but feel that she would be unhappy to go from ‘Lizzy’ to ‘Miss de Bourgh’ when she holds you in such esteem.”   
  
Mrs. Gardiner found her handkerchief, “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy-- and your ladyship, I only wished to avoid giving any offence. She is, and will ever be,  _ Lizzy _ in my eyes and in my heart. If you will forgive my saying so, your ladyship-- she was a particularly lovely infant, I held her in my arms for the whole length of the journey from London to Hertfordshire and stared at her most of the way.”   
  
Lady Catherine nodded. She was by no means offended by the compliment but found herself unable to answer without her there being an audible catch in her voice and so elected to remain silent. 

When he realised that his aunt would not respond, Mr. Darcy did so for her. “She is still particularly lovely,” he said gallantly, not meeting his aunt’s eye, “my cousin is even now making preparations for her ball. Once we have concluded this business in London my aunt will return directly to Matlock. Her ladyship was desirous of having a few private words with your guest-- but of course, if she is indisposed we need not disturb her.”

As Mr. Darcy intended, Lady Catherine took exception to this and found her voice once more. “If Miss Bennet is unable to leave her room,  _ I _ shall go up to her-- what I have to speak to her about will do much to restore her, you may depend upon it. It is very likely that one brief conversation with me will set her to rights.”

Mrs. Gardiner rose from her seat and excused herself, “I will not be above a moment, Madam-- if you would wait here I shall send Lydia down to you, or perhaps you would like to take a turn about the garden?” She smiled, “I grew up in Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy, and my mother had a delightful little flower garden in Lambton-- my delight in nature came with me to London.”    
  
She then quit the room and they heard her step on the stairs a few moments later. Lady Catherine looked about the room. It was a small space and she remarked as much to Darcy. 

“It looks to be a comfortably situated house, Aunt-- Elizabeth has stayed here often, I believe.” He bent his head a little to study a sketch that had been hung on the wall near to his chair.   
  
“I hear your unspoken rebuke nephew, and I tell you that it is quite unnecessary. I have every intention of being civil to these people-- do you think that I am only able to converse with my equals? I shall prove otherwise. If I remark that this room is small then that is based on fact and nothing more or less. I decline to carefully watch my words in order to not give offence to the easily offended. I take it that you have Wickham in good order?”   
  
“I have not visited the man and nor shall I until it is unavoidable. My men have a good check on him, he has spent most of the time drinking. Too much of his time is spent in the taproom of the Crossed Keys.”   
  
“He will run into trouble there before long,” predicted her ladyship, darkly. Her tone made her nephew shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Had you not better go into the garden, Aunt Catherine? I am sure Mrs. Gardiner is hastily making Miss Lydia ready to greet you, for fear of your bursting in on them without leave.”

She ignored the censure in his voice. “You will wait here, Darcy? I will not be long with the girl, and once I have spoken to her we must make our way to visit Lord Salisbury-- Matlock may yet be there.”

Lady Catherine made her way to the rear of the house and having coerced directions from a nervous-looking maid, and wandered into a walled garden that stretched out with surprising length. It was evident that Mrs. Gardiner had some talent for coaxing flowers into bloom. The high brick walls were lined with riotous colour from climbing roses and their scent hung pleasantly in the air. The path wound its way about the garden, leading her about beautifully trimmed hedges and tastefully planted flower beds.

A swing hung invitingly from a birch tree and Catherine wondered how often Elizabeth had sat upon it as a girl. There were no swings at Rosings Park, Anne had never requested one but she imagined that had circumstances been different, Elizabeth might have asked for one to be strung up by the time she was five or six years old. Not for the first time, Catherine tried to picture what her dark-haired daughter might have been like. A small stone bench had been carefully positioned for a good view of the tree and her ladyship prodded it cautiously with her stick before trusting sufficiently to sit down. 

She did not wait above five minutes in the peaceful garden before a tall girl with a blue dress and tear-stained cheeks approached her. They studied one another openly for a moment before the bold girl voiced the surprise that was so obviously going through her mind. 

“Are you Lizzy’s Mama then? La! You do not look very like her.”

Catherine waited a long moment, “Good day to you, Miss Bennet.” She looked pointedly at her and did not rise from her bench as Lydia Bennet made a belated and careless curtsey. “I am indeed Elizabeth’s mother. I am here acting on her behalf.”   
  
“You wouldn’t be here otherwise,” shrugged Lydia, incurably indiscreet.

“That is quite true, Miss Bennet, but life takes us in unexpected directions upon occasion and  _ this _ particular twist in the road has led me to this rather charming garden.” Catherine gestured to the flowers with her stick. Lydia looked almost bored and Lady Catherine frowned at her inattention. “Your hair is in considerable disorder-- it is late enough in the day that you  _ ought _ to have tidied it. I intend to assist you but you must know that I do not hold with laziness. It is but the work of ten minutes to see that your appearance is at least neat. You may not be a beauty, Miss Bennet, but you can at least appear to greater advantage by bestirring yourself a little.”

Lydia gaped, a little shocked to be so addressed and she began to argue, “I am! I have often been told that I am a  _ very _ well looking girl.”   
  
Lady Catherine looked doubtful and Lydia, no longer inattentive now, insisted, “They  _ do _ !”   


“You have had compliments heaped upon you by the likes of Mr. Wickham, I suppose.” She watched Lydia’s face fall and added, “Can you think of no ulterior reasons for his flattering you?”

A little abashed by the frankness of Lizzy’s mother, Lydia nodded her head and feeling self-conscious, tried to tidy her hair a little, even as she spoke defensively. “I usually do like to have my hair looking pretty-- it is only that  _ today _ I thought I should not get up.”

The older woman on the bench looked piercingly at her but her voice was kinder when she said, “Lying about in bed accomplishes nothing-- there is no use to be had in moping. You had much better get up and make yourself useful in some way, Miss Bennet.” 

Lydia began to pace and tried to show the other lady that she was an object to be pitied, not scolded. “But how  _ can _ I? You cannot even  _ imagine _ my misery-- my life is over, I might as well be  _ dead _ .”   
  
“Nonsense, girl. You are to be married.” Lady Catherine, judging by her brisk tone and obvious lack of sympathy, had precious little pity to spare.   
  
“To  _ him _ ?” cried Lydia, “he doesn’t want me-- he only wanted me to come to London with him because he thought I was silly and, perhaps he was right for he fooled me, did he not?” She spoke bitterly, “he made me believe he was in love with me!”   
  
“ _ Certainly _ to him. Mr. Wickham is a dishonest rogue, but there is no other way for your reputation to survive your bearing his child and even if you do not produce, you must still wed him.”

“That is what Mr. Gardiner says. Both he and Aunt Gardiner delivered me an odiously long sermon when Mr. Darcy brought me here. At least Mr. Darcy did not lecture me. Why can I not simply go home? I thought it would be a lark, to come to London and be married before any of my sisters were. I thought that Mama might stop lamenting over Lizzy if I wrote to her and told her that I was married.”    
  
“You have been a naive and foolish child, Miss Bennet. It is fortunate for you that I have taken an interest in the matter. How could you  _ think _ of going home unwed? Unfeeling and selfish girl, I am ashamed of you! Have you not considered that not one of your sisters, nay even your parents, would be hounded out of any good society? My daughter tells me that the eldest Miss Bennet was on the cusp of an engagement-- who can say if the young man will ask for her hand given  _ your _ behaviour.”   
  
She was satisfied that she had aimed her shaft well, for Lydia Bennet, apparently not having considered the matter from such an angle, ceased to look so sorry for herself and instead looked worried. 

“But Mr. Bingley loves Jane-- he would not be so unfair to her. He would not leave her!”   
  
“Still so confident in your understanding of men, Miss Bennet? He managed to do so once before, from my understanding.”

“Lizzy told you that?”

“I am her mother.”

“I don’t see what difference that makes, for she never confided in Mama when we were all at Longbourn.” Lydia paused and bit her lip, not realising that she had unconsciously laid a little more of Lady Catherine’s lingering jealousy to rest. “Could this hurt Lizzy? Is that why you are here to make me marry Wickham? Will you make Lizzy cut us off if I don’t?”

Her eyebrows raised, Lady Catherine replied, “It is an unnecessarily dramatic consideration, Miss Bennet, given that you  _ will _ marry him.”

Lydia shook her head, “I think he would make a beastly husband, your ladyship,” said Lydia, “I have been thinking about it and I am afraid that he is selfish and...some of the things he said to me, he is not a kind man. I thought that because he was handsome and charming that he was perfect.”   
  
“An accurate assessment, there is hope for you yet if you learn that lesson while you are young.”

“And yet you would have me be his wife? Even if I have a baby I do not think he will treat me well-- I was afraid of him when he was so drunk. Have you no pity for me? I am...I see that I was...I ought to have thought of other things than fun and making everyone else jealous of me but-- is there  _ no _ other way than this? I would do anything you say.”

Catherine smiled and Lydia took a step back from the bench. “Therein, Miss Bennet, I foresee your hopeful future. I do not command that you marry the man to be his wife, girl, I am recommending to you the somewhat happier position of being his widow.”


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who are still reading and leaving lovely comments. :) You are clearly far more approving of Lady Catherine's antics than Darcy is-- the wholehearted support for her ladyship's selective morality made me laugh.
> 
> I hope you are all keeping safe and well. We are fine here-- Lady Catherine de Bwaarrk has taken to sitting in a particularly tall plant pot as though it were a lofty throne from which to survey the lower classes of hen in her enclosure.

“Mama will insist that she sees you in it first, Elizabeth.”   


The young lady being addressed was occupied in adjusting the drape of delicate white lace at her neck and did not look up from her task. “I had assumed as much, sister.” The lace properly arranged she looked up and met Anne’s eyes in the gilt-edged long mirror. “It is the universal truth of all mothers-- at Longbourn Mama insisted that we must not be permitted to step foot out of the house to go to a ball or an assembly without her nod of approval. She went through my whole trunk after I had packed it to visit Hunsford Parsonage. Judd-- do please fetch me my white lace roses, I want Miss de Bough and Miss Darcy to give their verdict.”   
  
Judd, who had been silently stood by watching her young mistress fuss with her dress, departed to the dressing room. Elizabeth took a step back and twisted herself so as to properly see the back of the gown. 

“I like the little train, Lizzy,” said Georgiana, who despite her extreme anxiety over the ball, was enjoying this part of it prodigiously.    
  
“You look beautiful, sister, as you are no doubt aware.”   
  
Elizabeth laughed, “You are not entering into this as my sisters at Longbourn do! If I ask for an opinion on my looks there I am guaranteed to be told what must be altered from at least one of them. Thank you, Judd--” she took the roses. They had been cunningly formed from lace and sewn on to delicate gold wire, “now, do you feel that these ought to go in my hair or elsewhere? Are they not charming? The lace is the same that is on my gown, I wanted it as a reminder of the edge of my blanket that Lady Anne sent.” 

“Well, it is surely your decision, Elizabeth,” said Georgiana, unable to give a firm opinion either way.

Her cousin laughed again, “Not a bit of it, Georgiana, it is  _ Mama’s _ decision-- I am merely doing my best to have all resolved before she returns-- I can then present myself as a  _ fait accompli _ . Well, I am sure Judd believes that her opinion will carry the day, do you not? I forfeit any choice in how my hair should be put up to her.”   


With a serious face, Judd evaded the question. “I am sure I could not say, Miss Elizabeth. These things tend to turn out well enough by the time a young lady steps foot into the ballroom. If I may venture to suggest, however, that it an even arrangement of curls to frame the face and an upsweeping of the rest of the tresses to the crown of your head would be the most pleasing. If I may say so, Miss, you have a pleasing symmetry to your features that  _ ought _ to be displayed properly. Simplicity in your hair arrangement suits you best of all.”   
  
“Not the green turban then, Judd?”   
  
Judd did not shudder visibly, nor did her expression obviously shift, but her personal abhorrence for the suggestion was apparent in her tone when she replied, “No, Miss de Bourgh. Decidedly  _ not _ the green turban.”

“I was not partial to it in any case, Judd. I am sure I do not know what I was thinking when I picked it up at Ramsgate.”   
  
“No more I, Miss Elizabeth,” replied the maid dryly.   
  
“Well, you must forgive me my bad taste, and accompany me in future-- since I am not to be trusted to choose wisely.” She turned her attention to Georgiana, “How do you like the yellow roses on the underdress, cousin? I find it a very pleasing effect myself, although if Mama wears too cool a shade of blue we will clash dreadfully, Anne thankfully has elected to wear jonquil.”   
  
“It becomes you well, cousin. Ought I to write to my brother to tell him that  _ he _ must avoid blue also?”

At Anne’s soft laughter Elizabeth rounded on her, “have you been teaching Georgiana to be teasing toward me, Anne? It will not do! Not one bit. Georgiana is to be a lovely vision in white silk at the ball so I cannot even tease her in return. You must tell us what you mean to do with your hair, cousin-- I have a spare turban if you cannot make up your mind!”

“Oh,” said Georgiana, “I had thought perhaps to wear Mama’s diadem, you know, the little one with the rows of pearls.”   
  
“Elizabeth has never seen it, Georgiana,” reproved Anne, quietly. 

“No, I know-- I beg your pardon, Lizzy, I forgot. Should you like to see it now? I can call for my maid to have it brought upstairs, it is in the safe, I believe.”   
  
“It is well, I am not offended, there will be many an occasion wherein we all forget that this is not how life has always been.” She sighed, “I wish Mama might come home, I long to know all that is happening in London. Here, Judd, do help me out of this gown, I declare myself to be satisfied with it and I am sure I shall not disgrace my mother, my sister or  _ you _ in it. Do not trouble your maid to fetch that diadem, cousin, I shall see it in three days time-- how quickly the time is coming upon us! Are the servants in uproar below stairs, Judd? Do not be afraid to tell us if they are.”   
  
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth-- a calm household in general, I should say. The ballroom is nearly done with and so those servants are sent to fetch and carry for the kitchens. We will be busy enough the day of the ball but no doubt all will be in hand.”   
  
“Well, I must turn you out now my dears, for I am to dress-- shall we make another attempt at our duet later, Georgiana? You are altogether too precise in your playing, I must be diligent if I am not to be quite shown up when we perform for your brother.”

The other young ladies left the room and Elizabeth stood quietly for Judd to help her out of her gown, lost in thought. She did not believe she was terribly proud of her looks, but she knew she looked well in the dress. She hoped that Mr. Darcy would think so too. Elizabeth was untroubled by the prospect of being introduced to scores of grand ladies and gentlemen, they would think of her as they pleased, but she wanted  _ him _ to think of her as the handsomest lady in the room. In truth, she felt a little possessive of him, and thought she would be well pleased if only he did not take his eyes off her above twice for the whole evening. He had been rarely out of her thoughts these last few days, ever since Lady Catherine had departed from Matlock, Elizabeth’s mind had been in London or Longbourn by turns.

She wandered into the music room a little while later to see Anne taking a letter from a servant and Georgiana already seated at the pianoforte. Her heart lurched.

“Is it from Mama, Anne?” asked Elizabeth quickly, at her sister’s nod she went to her side. “What news, good or ill? Is she to come back soon?”

“Perhaps should read it, Lizzy-- it is addressed to you also. Read it aloud, dear.”

_ Darcy House, London _

_ Daughters,  _

_ I write, as you see, from Darcy house. Madame Joubert has our own residence in some considerable disorder-- I have not had time to view her changes but she assures me that she has done a transformation  **manifique** . It is my intention to depart London tomorrow morning, we have had some heavy rainfall here and Matlock believes it will be better to wait. In spite of my desire to be with you once more, it is better to be sensible about these matters.  _

_ I am able to report, Elizabeth, that the matter of the former Miss Lydia Bennet has now been settled quite satisfactorily. I enclose a letter from her own hand-- Darcy is escorting her to Longbourn even as I write to you. Once he has done all that is necessary in Hertfordshire he will ride to Derbyshire. I am to impress upon you his earnest desire to be at your ball.  _

_ Catherine de Bourgh. _

_   
_ _   
_ “The former Miss Lydia Bennet?!” Exclaimed Elizabeth once she had finished reading, what does Mama mean by leaving such sentence unclarified? It is too bad of her! No, I do not mean that-- she has been so kind in helping the Bennets.”

Anne quietly held out the other letter that had fallen out as she had opened the missive from her mother. “Here, Lizzy-- read this one also, if you will.”   
  
“I will if I can,” replied Elizabeth, as she scanned the note, “Lydia’s hand is not... _ oh _ !” 

“What is it? Do read the thing to us, Lizzy-- I do not like so much suspense.”   
  
“I cannot believe it. Oh, forgive me, Anne-- I will read it aloud. It is too extraordinary.”

_ Dear Lizzy,  _

_ How surprised you must have been, to have heard that my dear Wickham and I had run off to be married! When I left Brighton I had little notion that things should come to pass as they have. Your Mama is prodigious handsome but so grand in her ways that I could hardly keep from being overawed by her. I knew of course, that she was the daughter of an Earl but I hardly believed her to be so fine as she was. I am sure that you are very glad to belong to such a family. Mr. Darcy too, is a very handsome cousin for you to have, for all that he is so serious-- I believe he is a kind man, even if he should smile more often and be a little jollier. He is far better to have as a cousin than Mr. Collins at any rate. Mr. Darcy told me that I had worried you, I am sorry for that Lizzy, I had not thought of it. _

_ Lady Catherine told me that I must write to you to explain all that happened since I came to London and so I shall. I can see why she prefers that I should do it rather than she should take the trouble, for all I dislike writing. I cannot do it without getting horrid ink stains all over my hands. _

_ Lady Catherine came to London on Tuesday and visited us at Gracechurch Street. She told me that she had arranged, through her brother and a long-standing friend, that there should be a marriage licence made ready for Wickham and I to wed. I do not know how she managed to do it, but the date on the marriage certificate was written down as the self-same day I left Harriet’s house. Wickham did not notice it, he was not very lucid at the wedding. I rebelled against the scheme at first Lizzy, which I am sure will astonish you, for you may quickly guess that I desired to be married before all my sisters. Mr. Wickham turned out to be far less pleasant and charming than I had believed him to be.  _ _ I had dreamed, Lizzy, that I should write to you in triumph of my romantic elopement-- I thought I should make you envious of me by describing a charming wedding with a guard of honour and all manner of delightful things. Your Mama has told me that they were the dreams of a foolish girl, I suppose you have already learned that she does not like to be argued with. She is a little like you in that way. _

_ Mr. Darcy came to be groomsman at the wedding but apart from him, there was no one else there but my aunt and uncle and her ladyship. It was a sad affair, really, not one of us wished to be there by the time it was done. I soon discovered once we arrived in London that Mr. Wickham had a fondness for strong drink and I am afraid it made him quarrelsome and rather ugly in his speech.  _

_ We were declared man and wife eventually however and Mr. Wickham departed for the same taproom that he has frequented every night since we came to London and my aunt and uncle bore me back to Gracechurch Street. It was a strange turn of events. Apparently Mr. Darcy had prevailed upon Wickham (with money) to give me his name but Mr. Wickham had no intention of living with me as his wife. I cannot find myself regretting that, I know I have been fortunate. Were it not for your family, I can see that he would not have married me at all and I should have been quite ruined. _

_ And now, Lizzy, my story must take a strange turn for I was visited the next morning by a night watchman and a bald fellow wearing regimentals. The military gentleman asked me if I was married to Mr. George Wickham and when I said that I had been only just yesterday wed he looked grave and begged me to sit down. Aunt Gardiner said afterwards that she had a strong sense of premonition as to what the visit meant and came to hold my hand.  _

_ They told me that Mr. Wickham was dead. He had spent the whole night drinking heavily and gambling at his favoured table when he and a gentleman got into an argument over the fairness of play. Insults were exchanged and they stumbled out into the street with pistols and had a duel in the street! The watchman said that he saw it all and that Mr. Wickham had taken a shot to the neck and was dead within a half-hour. The man that killed him had stumbled off toward the docks and nobody knows who he is or where he went.  _

_ I know that it is sordid in the extreme (that is what Mr. Darcy said when he called later on) but I think of it as a rescue of sorts. I have been saved from a dreadfully sad life I think. I cannot regret it, although Aunt Gardiner tells me that I must wear black for a full year and look as though I am sorry he is dead. _

_ I am to go to home to Longbourn now, Mr. Darcy is to take me in his carriage while he rides. Perhaps I am not so fond of adventure after all, Lizzy? I want only to be home with Mama and my sisters now. I can even tolerate not being able to go to any balls or parties. Only, do send me a letter to Longbourn soon, I want to know all the details of your ball at Matlock.  _

_ Lydia Wickham. _ _   
_ __

  
  
  


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	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of the ball, Part two just needs to be got out of my head and onto a document and it will be with you as soon as it is done. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you are all keeping safe. :)

It was evident that her ladyship was weary from the long hours of travel-- Elizabeth could see it in the tightness of the mouth and the faint lines about her mother’s eyes. Those same eyes warmed at the sight of her daughters, however, and the mouth relaxed into a smile when both girls stepped forward to press their kisses to her cheeks. Mama smelled of expensive french perfume and Lizzy lingered near for a moment, savouring it. 

“Anne, you are well? You look well enough. Elizabeth, have you been practising the pianoforte with Georgiana? You cannot do better than to practise at that instrument, my dear, if you want to play really well.”   
  
“I am quite well, Mama-- the air at Matlock agrees with me. Elizabeth has been walking out with me on the milder days. Georgiana came with us yesterday and we had a picnic by the lake, it was pleasant. We must do it again now that you are returned to us.”   
  
“Yes,” agreed her sister, “for it was not the same without you with us to scold us into remaining in the shade with our bonnets on. My cousin and I have been most diligent in spending hours in the music room… I must be improving for Anne has not offered criticism for these last three days together.”   
  
“That is because you have not asked for it,” Anne said dryly. “Shall you rest, Mama? We will save up all of our news for you this evening.”   
  
“I will lie down for an hour and then we will talk. Your mother is not so weak as all that.”   
  
“No, you are quite the pillar of strength and magnificence, are you not, mother?” Elizabeth said with open affection, she had decided that she would eschew any mention of Lydia until her ladyship looked a little less weary. She did not like to see her Mama so fatigued. 

There was a brief hesitation before Lady Catherine replied, “it is fitting that you should think so, Elizabeth. I have little doubt that both of my girls will surpass me in years to come.” Her ladyship looked up to the cloudless blue sky and frowned, “if you intend to walk out you had better take a parasol or a wide-brimmed bonnet, it would not do for your complexions to be weathered before the ball. Speaking of which, I assume all is in hand and that no imminent disaster needs my immediate attention?”

Lizzy laughed, “nothing imminent, no madam. I fear the chandelier came crashing down when the maids were cleaning it and the floor of my uncle’s ballroom is quite irreparable.” It is of small importance though, Mama,” she added cheerfully, “for we have decided that the dancing must be held in the largest of the salons and it will be pleasantly cosy.”

All signs of tiredness instantly deserted Lady Catherine and her shoulders straightened in her indignation, “the  _ salon,”  _ she repeated, “dancing in the  _ salon _ ? I never heard of anything so outrageous in my life. If the floor of the ballroom is damaged then it must be mended-- come, come! Let me see it at once.”

Still smiling, Lizzy took her mother’s hand even as Anne shook her head in exasperation. “I was not serious Mama, merely presenting you with perspective-- the only difficulty we have encountered-- the veriest  _ hitch _ , my dear, is that we have given orders for the card tables to be set up in Uncle Matlock’s library rather than the lesser dining room. It means fewer tables but it cannot be helped, there is a broken pane in one of the windows of the dining room and insufficient time for a glazier to fit a new one ready.”

Lady Catherine considered this lesser disappointment and frowned at her younger daughter, “I will not be managed Elizabeth! I have an excellent sense of perspective, I thank you. I am sure that the library will do adequately-- even if cards were  _ always _ in that dining room when I made my come out. Really, you ought to know better than to jest about such things. The salon for dancing, indeed!” 

The day of the ball dawned bright and clear. The good weather that had preceded it seemed inclined to last and even as the first guests began to arrive, Lady Catherine said to her brother that it might be better to have the doors opened that led out to the patio.

The earl of Matlock was in a peculiarly jovial mood and nodded in agreement. “Well, you know how to order my servants about I daresay, Cathy. Give the command sister, and it shall be done. My nieces have done us proud while we were in London, have they not-- it all looks splendid. I looked in at the ballroom earlier on and I must say, the greenery and flowers up the columns are charming. Is Darcy to come here, Catherine? Or has he gone to Pemberley first?” Lizzy was grateful to her uncle for asking, she had been looking out of the window for Mr. Darcy at every opportunity since daybreak and still he had not come.    
  
“He ought to have been here by now, brother-- I do not know what has been keeping him. If Elizabeth cannot have her first dance with him I will be most…”   
  
“Displeased, Aunt Catherine?” Came a beloved voice from behind them and Lizzy whirled about in joy. “No more so than I should be with myself for having caused her disappointment.”   
  
“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth cried, “for shame sir, you are very nearly late. Oh, but you are forgiven, of course, I am so glad that you are here now. Richard arrived this morning and he has been tormenting me with all sorts of imagined horrors that might have befallen you.” He was looking at her with considerable admiration and she felt the blush rising up from her neck, “You are staring at me, Fitzwilliam-- is aught amiss?”

“Not a single thing, Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy sincerely, “You look beautiful, as ever.” He looked up, conscious of the eyes of their family upon them both and flushed a little. Matlock was making exaggerated gestures of encouragement whilst Elizabeth’s back was turned but somehow Darcy did not feel like laughing. “Does your dance card have my name in it yet? Come, I will put it in now. Anne-- do you dance tonight?”   
  
“Not if I can possibly help it, no,” replied Miss de Bourgh shortly, secure in the knowledge that her cousin would understand her reticence rather than be offended by it.    
  
Elizabeth sighed, “Anne will not and Mama says that she will not either, Fitzwilliam. Even when my uncle asked so gallantly to lead her out for the cotillion she would not bend.”   
  
“We used to be very fond of dancing when we were young, eh Cathy? Come to think of it, is Salisbury coming? You danced often enough with  _ him _ when we had parties here, sister. He bribed the orchestra to play  _ La Belle Catherine _ once or twice did he not?”

“Yes,” said lady Catherine, repressively, “a waste of resources, of course, but Salisbury never seemed to trouble himself about that.”

“I should think he wouldn’t Cathy! Twenty thousand pounds a year and no family to support to boot, I’d think he could afford to live a little more freely than he does-- he’s a touch like Darcy here, though perhaps less extreme.”   
  
“Would you say that Mr. Darcy is an  _ extreme _ gentleman, Uncle?” asked Elizabeth with wide eyes, “I would not have thought it.”

Matlock remembered his desire for a match between them and stammered, “What? Oh! No, not a bit of it, best of all fellows is Darcy, couldn’t find a finer fellow.”   
  
“Thank you, sir,” said the man in question, sharing a warm look of amusement with Lizzy, “ I see that your guests are arriving, I shall leave you to form a receiving line-- I will come for you when it is time to form the sets, my dear.”

The next hour was a blur of curious faces and names to Elizabeth. She curtseyed dutifully to each guest until her legs ached from it and quickly became used to Lady Catherine gesturing to her with her cunningly painted fan and proudly saying, “my daughter, Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh.” Gentlemen bowed over her hand and her dance card was almost full by the time she was excused from her place beside her mother when Darcy came to find her. 

He led her by the hand to the top of the set and the musicians struck up their instruments. The sound filled the ballroom well and she felt the frisson of excitement that such a grand ball was given in her honour. Elizabeth liked the feel of her hand in Darcy’s and the warmth that seeped through their gloved fingers, she was sorry when he released it. 

“Darcy,” she said quietly, as the other couples were taking their places lower down the line, “there is no one in this room that I would prefer to be dancing with than you. I am glad you arrived in time, no one else would have suited me half so well.” 

“It is the same for me, Elizabeth, although my preference might be to sit quietly beside you somewhere and not dance at all. I concede that that would cause considerable comment, however.”

She laughed, managing to forget all the eyes that were upon her. Elizabeth was not naive enough to suppose that they all looked in admiration, for all that Darcy found no fault with her appearance. Elizabeth raised a conscious hand to the diamond earring in her ear, her Uncle had presented both she and Anne with a pair each to mark the occasion of her happy return to the family. They weighed heavy in her ear. Another look to her dance partner renewed her courage. She could envisage her whole life beside him in that moment, knowing that he would stand her friend even if this whole glittering world should disdain her.

“It is too late now, Mr. Darcy. I hope to avoid excessive gossip tonight and your abandoning me now would dash all of that to pieces.” They bowed and curtseyed respectively and joined hands to change places for the first bar of the dance. “Tell me-- you went to Longbourn did you not? Are they well...have you a letter for me? Did Lydia...oh but I have so many questions. Tell me all that you can if you please, Mama has evaded the subject each and every time that I have tried to offer her my thanks.”   
  
She was obliged to wait as the form of the dance meant that they could not talk for a few moments but when he returned to her to lead her about the neighbouring couple, he answered in a low voice. “I did indeed go to Longbourn, Mrs. Wickham is now settled in there once more and does not seem to have any inclination to leave. I believe that she had some struggle to keep up any appearance of serenity when Mrs. Bennet embraced her at the door and  _ her _ relief was palpable. They are well, and yes, I have a letter for you from all of them.” He turned away and back again in time with the stately measures of the dance. “I cannot tell you it’s contents but I believe that there was no little remorse that their silence had caused you any pain. Miss Bennet in particular bade me tell you that...but perhaps we should speak of something else.”   
  
Elizabeth had been regretting her introduction of the subject as soon as he mentioned Mrs. Bennet waiting for Lydia at the door with open arms. She had felt those arms about her often enough and the buried longing of many months rose up in her heart and threatened to spill over.    
  
“Yes,” she answered a little hoarsely, “yes, I was foolish to think that I could hear of Longbourn without weeping-- do talk of something else to me, sir, I beg you.”

He was silent as he bowed to the lady beside them and they moved down the set. They had a little more opportunity for private talk when they joined hands once more.    
  
“Would you perhaps like to hear that you are the most beautiful lady here, Elizabeth?”   
  
“Yes,” she replied pertly, “that sounds a much more cheerful conversation, particularly given that I will also have the opportunity to embarrass you also and effusively talk of how handsome you are.” She laughed and the candlelight from the chandeliers above them made the diamonds in her ears sparkle brilliantly. “No, no-- if we both finish this dance with cheeks aflame then that will  _ also _ cause talk. Let us speak instead of our Unarrangement, Mr. Darcy.”   
  
He did not, to his credit, miss his step but he was taken aback. “ _ Here _ ?   


“Of course. It is a subject that can only make me smile, after all. I have spent a great deal of time thinking this through and I have thought of something clever that I mean to impress you with, it is a variation on a theme but you will forgive me that. You and I do not yet have an understanding, it must instead be called a  _ derstanding _ , must it not?”   


The dance separated them once again but she did not lose sight of his face and saw with pleasure how quickly he comprehended her wit. She felt a sharp pang of remorse at the disappointment that he clearly felt but attempted to cover. Clearly, he had hoped for something else from her. When they joined hands once more she abandoned her attempt to make him laugh. 

“I have disappointed you, my dear Fitzwilliam.”   


He shook his head in denial, “If I raised my own hopes at your beginning the subject it is hardly you who have made me so, Elizabeth-- I said you should have all the time that you need and so I meant it.” He smiled at her and Elizabeth looked earnestly up at him. 

Making a decision based on the strength of her instinct rather than permitting any fear of change to grasp her, she spoke very rapidly in her answer. “It occurs to me Fitzwilliam, that you will need to speak to my father.” As soon as she said it, Lizzy felt a sense of peace descend upon her. Marrying Mr. Darcy would not surely cause less uncertainty in her life than not being his wife would.   
  
Surprise was yet again clearly writ on his features but the dance was ending and he only had the time to answer quickly before he bowed, “I... _ happened _ to be in private conference with him only yesterday morning...perhaps you will find me odiously presumptuous but I spoke to him then.” He took her hand to lead her back to her mother and Anne, who had left their stations at the entrance of the ballroom and were stood beside the enormously tall Lord Salisbury. 

“An excellent opening dance, Elizabeth-- you look well on the dance floor. With whom do you partner next? Darcy, I should be pleased if you would lead out Miss Hartley at some point this evening-- I have assured her aunt that I will not allow her to spend the evening partnerless. Richard has already claimed the supper dance with her. She is a pleasant enough young girl, if a little vapid, but you will not mind that.”    
  
Darcy nodded to his aunt but his mind was evidently full of other matters-- he turned to Lizzy, “thank you for the dance, Elizabeth.”   
  
“The supper dance is yours also, sir-- we may talk some more then.” It was a wretched piece of timing, she thought, to almost propose to a man at a ball when they could not be reliably in one another's company for any length of time. Elizabeth began to have a little sympathy for gentlemen who never seemed to come to the point of actually asking for a young ladies hand. Mrs. Bennet had bemoaned the existence of such men often enough.

Lord Salisbury watched Mr. Darcy head off toward the refreshment table where Georgiana stood with a matronly looking woman, “I see what you mean your ladyship, he  _ is _ very like his father. Handsome chap though, he must have had a good number of caps set at him. Well now, Miss Elizabeth,” he said kindly, looking away from the object of her thoughts, “I am sure that your dance card must be full already, eh? Have you any room on it for an old fellow who is very fond of dancing. Your Mama  _ and _ your sister have both spurned me but I shall keep on trying with this fine family of ladies until I find a way of squeezing myself into your good graces!”

Lizzy liked the genial man, he had an open smiling countenance that set people at their ease. “I should be honoured to dance with you, my Lord Salisbury. My next three sets are claimed but should you like to take the fifth?”   
  
“I would indeed, Miss Elizabeth-- is it a new dance, do you know? I am better versed in the ones your Mama used to dance with me, oh more than twenty years ago now.”    
  
She could not help smiling at him, a quick glance to her mother assured her that Lady Catherine was fond of this gentle giant of a man-- as fond as she ever was of men at any rate. “Miss Darcy and I selected that one together sir, it is going to be Lady Fairford’s Delight.” 

“Just the thing, Miss Elizabeth. We shall have a delightful turn together, you and I.”   
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	45. Chapter 45

If Elizabeth had to check her smile at the beginning of her set with Lord Salisbury on account of his looming stature in comparison to the rest of the gentlemen beside him, by the end of the dance she found herself feeling quite fiercely protective of the large gentleman’s dignity. He danced well enough and with such evident enjoyment that she found herself responding in a like manner and they made a merry couple as they moved through their steps together. 

At first, they spoke but little but soon Elizabeth hit upon the subject of her mother and there was no stopping him from talking then. She was content to listen to him and it did not take her long to realise that his lordship was not merely an old standing friend of Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam, but rather he was deeply in love with her and had been, by her reckoning, for some considerable time.

“I suppose you must think, Miss Elizabeth, that this is an old fashioned dance but you know it was very popular when your Mama and the late Lady Anne made their come out. I don’t know that I ever supposed that I would one day dance with her ladyship’s daughter.”   
  
“Do you think us at all like, my lord?”

“Not in features-- although every now and then I wonder if there is perhaps something about the eyes in expression. She was a magnificent creature, even at seventeen--she would stare down any young fellow that dared to gawp at her or her sister too long. I should know, I was the worst of them for staring. Couldn’t get up the courage to talk to her at first, she stood so close to her sister-- like a lioness on guard she was. I don’t suppose you know it but young men can be dreadfully put off by ladies who gather in packs, it gives us the shakes-- or it did me. I finally asked her ladyship if she would dance with me and I was only an honourable then, but she was gracious and consented. I think she even enjoyed herself with me.” He periodically looked across the room at Lady Catherine as he spoke and the expression on his face led Lizzy to ask her next question with little consideration for the short length of time she had known him.

“Did you never pay court to her, my Lord?”   
  
His attention was diverted from the mother to the daughter, “Aye, you  _ are _ like her aren’t you now? Yes, Miss-- I did. Still am I suppose and have been since I first saw her. You may imagine, I suppose, how I tormented myself when the match with de Bourgh was arranged while I was still gathering courage.”

“Oh, now that is sad.”   
  
“Not so sad as it was when you went missing, my dear. I couldn’t do all I would have liked to for her, but I counted myself her friend above everything. I don’t say this to boast you know, but as soon as my father died and I inherited, I quietly got a search up for you-- a good six months too late I fear but I wanted to do something. Her ladyship was not...well she wasn’t herself for a while.”   
  
Elizabeth warmly thanked him, which he waved off as best as he could whilst exchanging places with the gentleman beside him.

“No no, my dear. It never came to anything. I only got as far as the midwife-- I fear she clammed up at the sight of me as soon as I said I was a friend of de Bourghs, I never said  _ which _ de Bourgh-- which is a pity, for it might have answered if I had said I was there on behalf of her ladyship.”   
  
“You are very kind, my lord Salisbury” Elizabeth said sincerely, “and I am sure my mama was glad to have you as her friend.”

He answered her with equal sincerity, “Well, anything for Lady Catherine, you know-- it isn’t any great secret that I adore your mother, even if she does think me a weakling. At least she has not sent me away about my business, as she does to other fellows who come calling on her. If grovelling at her feet is the means by which I may be near her, I’ll do that and gladly. Perhaps one day she’ll come around to this old fellow.”   
  
“Well, you have  _ my _ permission to grovel at Mama’s feet as much as you please. If you can get her to dance with you, sir, I should be quite delighted. In fact, I heard that you bribed a company of musicians to play La Belle Catherine once, did you not? You ought to do so again.”   
  
He laughed, a booming thing that made the lady beside Elizabeth start visibly, “More than once, Miss Elizabeth-- I did it at every party I went to that she was at for a month! She bade me stop it in the end and so I did of course. I’d dare not do it at  _ your _ ball, my dear, if I know your mother she’d come at me like a fury if I fiddled with her arrangements. I am not so sure what your elder sister would make of it either, now I think of it.”   
  
“Oh, I rather imagine that Anne would be vastly amused, but I will not press you. Tell me, did you come from London to my ball? Many of the guests here have estates in neighbouring counties but my cousin Mr. Darcy only arrived back from town today.”   
  
Salisbury was not well practised in concealment and the sudden flash of discomfort before he answered caught Elizabeth’s attention. 

“Oh-- yes. I saw him there, briefly. They were very busy I believe.”   
  
Elizabeth fixed a steady gaze on the large man, watching his face thoughtfully as they made a promenade down the set. He looked alarmed. 

“Now now, don’t go looking at me like that-- I’ve seen that look in your mother’s eye  _ and _ in my hound’s eyes when they think they’re on to something.” Lizzy frowned a little but said nothing and Salisbury began to babble. “If I was able to perform a... _ trifling _ service what matter is that between friends, eh Miss Elizabeth? I don’t like to say nay to your mother when she asks for something, for she doesn’t do so as a general rule and with my younger brother being the bishop I am sure I was the right person to be of assistance. Honoured, in fact.”

“Did  _ you _ arrange for the license? I stand doubly in your debt then, both for being Mama’s greatest friend and for my poor younger sister.”   
  
“Well, it was a bad business. Too many scoundrels about, I am sorry she had to marry him at all-- I hope he treats her well, but I daresay Darcy has tied up the funds in such a way that he has to.”   
  
Elizabeth’s eyebrows raised a little in surprise but she did not correct his lordship. Instead, she made a shrewd guess, “how did you manage to have the date altered? Did your brother not object? I should be sorry if your kindness caused you any difficulty.”

“James? Oh no, I fear I took a little advantage of him there but your Mama assures me that I need not suffer any guilt for it-- it was all for a good cause after all. My brother has great trouble with remembering any details, it is very bad-- his secretary has a terrible time with him over it. He has always been that way, the masters at Harrow-- well now, they despaired of him but didn’t dare do anything. It was an easy thing to change the day and leave him to assume he had not remembered it properly. Matlock was there to vouch for things being right and proper too-- which distracted my brother, he’s been wanting to gather support for a bill in the house to be passed and Matlock said he would see what he could do, but I shan’t trouble your head over that.”

By the time they had completed their set they were on their way to becoming fast friends, Lord Salisbury tucked Lizzy’s hand into the crook of his elbow and proudly made a circuit of the room with her-- even going so far as to jest with the Earl of Lauderdale that he was the greater in Elizabeth’s favour. 

The Earl, who was a proud Scottish gentleman laughed at Salisbury. “‘Tis my thinking that you’ve not realised we old men aren’t taken seriously by young beauties any longer, my friend. We’ve nought but horses to argue over now-- aye, you take your time enjoying the company of the lassie, Salisbury-- I’ll not be calling you out for favour. Miss Elizabeth, are you to dance with my son this night?”   
  
“Viscount Maitland, my lord? Yes-- he has his name written down for the last dance of the evening. I am looking forward to it, of course.”

Salisbury led her away from the Earl and toward Anne, who was in a heated conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, “I shall leave you with your sister now, my dear-- I am to the card room, not for anything too deep, of course, her ladyship wouldn’t like it above half but I am fond of a good game of cards.” He bowed low to her and kissed her hand, Elizabeth turned her attention to Anne and her cousin.   
  
“Did the old man try to flirt with you, Lizzy?” asked Richard, “you look very fine tonight, it is as well that I have been on many marches with you and have seen you quite covered in mud or I should think you a real lady.”   
  
“Richard!” Anne sounded peeved, “Do not dare to suggest that my sister is not a real lady in my presence.”

Lizzy laughed, “oh, there is no need to scold Richard on my account, Anne-- I was quite ready to tell him that  _ he _ looks almost like a gentleman.”   


Anne shook her head, “you two are as ill-mannered as one another.”

“Possibly, are you going to tell me what you were arguing about before Lord Salisbury brought me within earshot?”   


Anne’s expression closed down, “no,” she said briefly and looked about the room for her mother.   
  
“Richard,” said Elizabeth, with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, “you ought to dance with Anne.”

“Anne hates dancing, Lizzy-- I think it may be because she would fall over her own feet in front of everyone and so she declines every man that asks her.”   
  
“Richard!” exclaimed Lizzy, annoyed on Anne’s behalf, particularly when she saw the flush of embarrassment on her sister’s face. “You will apologise to her for that, I do not know what has gotten into you, cousin-- you are in very ill humour tonight.”   
  
Richard bowed, “I beg your pardon, Anne-- I had not intended to insult you.”   
  
Miss de Bourgh nodded graciously, but in such a way that made it evident that he had indeed given offence.    


“You are to dance with me next at any rate, Lizzy-- come along, shall we make Darcy jealous? Anne-- shall we take you to her ladyship or to Georgiana, there is time before we make up the sets. I don’t care to leave you standing about alone.”   
  
“I wanted to find Georgiana anyway, no-- do not take me. I am not one of these silly women who cannot walk across a room without escort.”   
  
“Richard is afraid you will steal out on the balcony and cause a great scandal, sister.”   
  
Anne smiled, if there was anyone able to raise a smile out of her when she was out of humour, it was Lizzy. “I may yet do that and surprise you all.” With that she left them and made her way through the crowds of finely dressed ladies and gentleman toward a corner where she knew Georgiana Darcy to be sitting.

“I had better make my way over to Georgiana myself soon, Richard-- I hadn’t meant to let her alone while I danced the night away.”   
  
“She has been enjoying watching you and she has been well guarded. Darcy has been alternating between hovering over her and glowering at the young men he has seen paying too much attention to you.”   
  
“Where are these young men? They have quite escaped my notice!”

“Oh, they’re hardly worth your concern, Lizzy my love, cowardly fellows who scuttle off at the thought of approaching for a dance but they do like to look at a pretty face.”   
  
“I wish I had observed them, I shall need descriptions to write to Longbourn-- if I can give the distinct impression that I have been a raging success but without being so vulgar as to openly boast of it I shall be well pleased.”   
  
“I am sure you would be, I will supply you with any number of imaginary gentlemen-- will that do? There is one fellow who has not taken his eyes off you all evening-- but he is a little portly and doesn’t have the height to carry it off well.”

“Unlike you, cousin?” asked Lizzy sweetly, intent upon avenging Anne for his earlier cutting remark.   
  
He shook his head at her, “put your claws away, Lizzy-- I see that I have upset both the de Bourgh sisters, I will cry pardon and go and beg Anne’s forgiveness properly after we are done here, will that do?”   
  
“It will do if you will tell me why you were arguing first.”   
  
He sighed, “I’d really rather not.”   
  
“I am sure you would, but that doesn’t follow that you won’t tell me.”   
  
Richard sighed again, “She has a bee in her bonnet about Darcy and wanted me to have a word with him, she did not like my response.”   
  
“Your response being “no”?’

The quick flash of a grin lightened his face, “I may have added a few more words.”   
  
“Very well, what does my sister accuse him of?”   
  
“Nothing directly, but she wanted me to make sure that he didn’t think that the ten thousand he bribed Wickham with entitled him to take you away from her. Oh don’t look like that, Lizzy-- she’s the jealous sort you know... but she’s not a bad girl for all that.”

“Ten thousand? Ten thousand  _ pounds _ ?” repeated Elizabeth, blankly, “he gave Mr. Wickham…” she broke off, hardly knowing what to ask first, “where is it now then? Did he receive it back? How can he have done so much and not told me of it? How is half such a sum to be repaid and Anne...how did she know of it?”

“Oh dear,” said the colonel, glumly, “I don’t know how she knew, she has a way of squirrelling out information-- you’d better ask her. I think she’d probably tell you if you already knew enough. As for the money, Darcy spoke of it being held in trust for Mrs. Wickham. I imagine that he didn’t tell you of it because he doesn’t want you to feel beholden in any way, as Anne ought to have known if she’d have put any thought into the matter.”

“Oh, Richard,” whispered Elizabeth, in wonder, “Richard, he did all of it for  _ me _ . I knew he went to find her and that he bribed Mrs. Younge but he didn’t drop a word about such an expense-- and the mortification that it must have cost him.  _ Richard,  _ I am going to marry him and spend my whole life making him as happy as I am able to. Was there ever a better man in all the world?”

Colonel Fitwilliam coughed lightly, “Well as to  _ that _ , I don’t think I am a good judge-- he’s a grand fellow, of course but I just do not see him in the same light as you do, evidently. It does strike me that you had better wait for him to ask you to marry him though, rather than just  _ announcing _ it to me that you’ll wed him. Not really the done thing to ask a gentleman to marry you.”

  
  
  


  
  
  



	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> da da da da dum
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> dum dum
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> dum dum
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> da da da da dum
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> dum dum 
> 
> dum dum

Elizabeth wondered if the gentlemen she danced with noticed how inattentive she was to them. She moved through the steps of her dances with light grace and smiled at them now and again but her eyes seemed, of their own volition, to search out the tall figure of Mr. Darcy. He stood beside Georgiana for much of the time, only excusing himself to dance a set with the vacant Miss Hartley. 

He seemed to be looking at her as often as her eyes found him and by the time their eyes had met for the third time in the space of half an hour, Elizabeth had laughed and taken an honest delight in the broad smile that her laughter won from him. 

She was relieved when he left Miss Darcy’s side to make his way over to her for the supper set, at least there would be one partner that she could successfully keep her attention on whilst dancing. Elizabeth met him halfway and smiled, her mind having been made up she could not repress her happiness in being near him. 

“How are you enjoying your ball, my dear?” he asked her, taking her gloved hand in his and raising it to his lips. 

“I will enjoy it more now that we are to dance with one another again. I have wanted to speak to you since I danced with Richard.”

“For a specific reason? I have been thinking of little else since our last dance, Elizabeth.”  
  
“Yes, for a specific reason, Fitzwilliam. Richard tells me that you were not wholly forthcoming in your letter to me from London.”   
  
“Did he?” There was something in his polite tone that gave his caution away to her.

“Yes,” she looked into his face searchingly but was met with a bland look of inquiry.

“Perhaps you might tell me in what manner you have found my communication to be lacking, Elizabeth?”

“I refer to your unexampled kindness to my poor sister, Mr. Darcy-- you said not a word of that. Richard told me how much-- he told me what you have done for her. Why did you not tell me, Fitzwilliam? Would you have let me go through my whole life ignorant the full kindness of the man I love?”

Mr. Darcy, who had been looking up to the gallery at the master of ceremonies turned his head abruptly to look at Elizabeth. 

“You cannot,” he complained softly, “go about saying such things to me in so public a place as this, Elizabeth.”  
  
“How similar you and Richard are, sometimes, Fitzwilliam. He seemed to have a good deal to say about how I ought to conduct myself at my own ball, also.”   
  
“Did he?” said Darcy, for the second time that evening, then, “impudent of him-- Richard has no business taking you to task for your behaviour-- particularly since I had to oust him from the balcony earlier on this evening.”   
  
“Oh, who was he with?” she laughed and waited a moment as she curtseyed to mark the beginning of the set, “No, I suppose it does not matter, does it? He has not done any less than you, sir, in censuring my words.”   
  
“I was not censuring your words, Elizabeth-- merely remarking that it is hardly fair to say them here-- how can I respond as I would wish to with so many onlookers?”   
  
“Oh,” she said, sounding pleased, “is that the reason? We had better go out to the balcony after supper and I will say it again. I suppose I had better wait ‘til then to propose to you, too, then you will be able to answer as you please without any sense of restraint.”

“Yes,” replied, Mr. Darcy, in an unsteady voice, “I suppose that might be for the best.”  
  
Elizabeth’s smile was bright, “I am glad you think so, sir-- Richard seemed to think I ought not to ask you at all.”   
  
“Richard,” said Mr. Darcy, quite firmly, “was wrong. However, we ought to speak of something else, my dear, or I will do something shocking.”   
  
Lizzy regarded him with interest, “how shocking? More or less shocking than your conduct in Mama’s billiard room?”   
  
He was obliged to laugh at her hopeful expression, “Much more shocking than that.”   
  
“Oh! As shocking as when we were at Pemberley and you--”

“Yes, that will do I think, Elizabeth,” he said, hastily, “we will change the subject now if you please.”

“What would you like to discuss? You might start by telling me all that went on in London that I am not privy to.”  
  
“ _That_ discussion had better wait until supper.”   
  
“And will you tell me _all_?”

He furrowed his brow and hesitated before answering her, “no-- I do not think that I will.” He said it gently but it was evident that he was resolute in his decision.

To his surprise, Elizabeth nodded, “I did not think that you would.” She spun away from him and took the hand of Mr. Fimbleby, with whom she had already danced that evening. 

“I confess that I had expected rather more annoyance on your part,” said Mr. Darcy, when he took her hand again to lead her down the set.  
  
“I am in a very good mood, my dear,” she said softly, before adding tenderly, “ and...I _trust_ you, Fitzwilliam.”

“ _Georgiana_ ,” said Mr. Darcy firmly, after having swallowed visibly, “we are now going to discuss my sister for the remainder of this dance.”

“Yes? She has joined forces with Anne in order to tease me about you, it is a mark of sisterhood, I am sure, and I feel that we will deal extremely well together.”

“You tease where you feel affection,” he stated, raising their joined hands for her to pass beneath.

“Yes, I hope you will not mind my doing so often.”  
  
“I do not mind your teasing, my dear.”   
  
“That is well, for I do not mean to stop, even Mama must bear it-- she tries to be patient with me. Fitzwilliam-- I have been wondering how long it will take for her to scold me.”   
  
“She might be more ready to do so if you had spent the last twenty years under her roof.”

Elizabeth sighed, “I am quite done with feeling maudlin about those lost years, Fitzwilliam-- it is indubitably sad and I can comprehend Mama’s fury with Sir Lewis but I cannot regret my life thus far. I have been happy-- I want to either visit Longbourn soon or have them visit me, Fitzwilliam but I have an inkling that Anne and Mama will not like it.”   
  
“I do not think her ladyship will refuse you a carriage but if she does I will send you in one of mine.”   
  
“Would you? Even braving Mama’s severest displeasure with you?”   
  
“I should have thought it evident that my loyalty is yours.” 

“The thing I most love about you sir-- is the way you will say the most romantic things I have ever heard as though it were commonplace. There, now you are quite as red in the cheeks as I am and my revenge is complete. We have digressed again, I fear that the fault is mine-- why ever did I decide in the middle of a ball to begin such a conversation? It was not well planned.”  
  
“Heartfelt truth rarely _is_ planned when it is spoken.” 

“There is that, I suppose-- you cannot doubt my sincerity if I have timed things so ill.”

“Young ladies are not taught how to go about these things,” he replied with a smile.

“Are young men, Fitzwilliam? Do you arrive at university and hear from learned men how one must go about proposing?” 

He considered this with amusement, “most of the professors at Cambridge had a very dim view of marriage.”  
  
“Which is to say that they were all confirmed old bachelors and had not a jot of experience in romance. My aunt Gardiner has always said that my uncle’s business acquaintances who were old and unmarried were inept when it came to making any conversation with a lady. There was one man, a merchant, who came to a dinner party and spoke not a word but actually offered my aunt a cigar when she attempted to make conversation with him.”

Mr. Darcy laughed and Lizzy felt all the triumph of having made her ordinarily reserved cousin do so publically.

“You put me in mind of something, your aunt was good enough to give me a gift for your mother that she asked me to pass on to her. I noted that there were a number of sketches on the wall of your aunt’s drawing-room-- I happened to ask if there were any of you and she produced a likeness of you that she did when you were perhaps three or four.”  
  
“Oh, and do you have it here, sir? Mama and Anne would like to see that.” 

“I do indeed, I may offer it to Lady Catherine when I ask her for your hand.”  
  
Elizabeth smiled serenely, “will it be a more daunting ordeal than asking Papa? If you feel the need to bear gifts to my mother then I suppose you feel it must be. I never heard of anyone asking both a mother and father for permission to wed their daughter but it seems so fitting that you should do so for me.”   
  
He bowed, “You have two hands, Elizabeth-- it stands to reason that I should have both conferred upon me.”

“It is I who will confer my heart, Fitzwilliam.” The music ceased and the other couples began to drift away toward the dining room for supper, the two of them stood still, oblivious to all that was around them. “You told me, sir, that if I wanted you for a husband, you were mine for the asking. I do indeed desire to be your wife, I have been thinking of it every day and I should like nothing better than to be Mrs. Darcy. What difference will another name make to me? I can be Lizzy Bennet, Elizabeth de Bourgh or Elizabeth Darcy and it will not make a jot of a difference except that you are the one I have _chosen_ to love. I love both of the families I was born to because they are my kin but I love you because I cannot help but do otherwise.”

Mr. Darcy may not have been an expressive man by nature, but Lizzy was well satisfied by the tender and heartfelt love that suffused his face. He looked up quickly and cast a glance about the rapidly emptying ballroom before stepping forward and placing his hand on Elizabeth’s waist. He moved his feet together whilst applying gentle pressure with his hand and Lizzy quickly caught on to his aim.  
  
“Mr. Darcy, are we _waltzing_ ? Mama will be…”   
  
“She is not here, she has already gone to the dining room to oversee matters there-- ah, I see Lord Salisbury has gone to have a word with the musician over there and we shall have some music. Where did you learn these steps? I assumed you might already know them-- you dance very well.”   
  
“Mary read a condemnation of waltzing aloud to us one evening in February-- naturally Lydia learnt the dance by the end of that week and I was the only one who would waltz with her.”   
  
He smiled as a romantically minded violinist struck up his instrument, “Naturally. Not Miss Catherine, nor Miss Bennet?”   
  
“Kitty was too afraid to and Jane had not the heart for it but she played for us instead. You do realise that this is our third dance together, even if there are only a dozen people left in this room this is tantamount to a public announcement that we are betrothed. A _waltz_ , no less.”

“Yes, it is quite scandalous is it not, my love?”

It may have been the dizzying whirl of the dance, the large warm hand on her waist or the deep timbre of Mr. Darcy’s voice when he said it, but Elizabeth felt a thrill run through her. 

Unsteadily, she murmured, “You do not sound at all like Richard when you say that.”  
  
“I am glad to hear it,” he said quietly, drawing her a little nearer still.   
  
“You still haven’t answered me, Mr. Darcy.”   
  
“Have I not?”

She attempted to collect her wits. “I suppose my addresses were not refined enough for your tastes,” politely she asked, “ought I perhaps to have kneeled down?”

He turned their direction toward the doors of the ballroom, where Lord Salisbury stood looking on with a grin on his face, the few who remained in the ballroom looked largely inclined to be indulgent of the young couple and made their way off to the splendid supper that they had been promised. 

“Very well, Miss Bennet,” he said softly, “you shall have your answer. In such cases as these, I believe I am to express my gratitude for the honour of your addresses and then make every effort to assure you that your obliging affection is returned in equal measure. With the mode thus established, Elizabeth de Bourgh, I accept your obliging proposal. I am intent upon showing you,” his volume dropped to a whisper, “Mrs. Darcy, every day for the rest of our lives, that my love for you is as ardent as it is unwavering.” 


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! I ought to go through all of these chapters and name them with different variations of 'Sorry I am late" This one would be titled, "In which Jeannie Peneaux stayed outside and got burnt instead of writing indoors like she should have."
> 
> We have had the most glorious sunshine here for a week. It has meant that we have been able to sit outside in the garden which has been so nice. I hope that wherever you all are, whether still in lockdown or easing out of it, that you are safe and as happy as you can be in the circumstances. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

To Elizabeth, the rest of the ball passed in a blur of hazy delight. She loved and was loved by the man that she would walk beside for the rest of her life. The knowledge of their engagement, only official between themselves did not make her outwardly ebullient by any means but her joy was only increased by the expressive smiles that passed between them for the remainder of the evening. Mr. Darcy was not a man in the habit of expressing his most private feelings, particularly in so large a gathering as a ball. 

Mr. Darcy looked pleased when Lizzy delayed finding her seat for supper in order to bid Georgiana a good night. His sister had enjoyed herself that evening, relishing in all the glamour of society without feeling anywhere near so much anxiety as she might have in London. Anne may have assisted matters by quite reasonably pointing out that all eyes that evening would be on Elizabeth, that it would be her that they watched in order to approve or condemn, that had caused a redirection of her fears in sympathy with her cousin.

“Are you to bed now, Georgiana? I am glad I was able to speak to you first then, Fitzwilliam is about to take me into supper and I dare not delay for long, Mama will be annoyed with me if I do not appear soon. Are you glad you came? I am glad that you did so-- it is always so pleasant to feel that one has an ally in a room, you know. One day when you make your own come out I shall pack the room with every friendly face that you can think of, my dear cousin! I will even lay you a wager that I succeed in making you enjoy the trial as much as I have this evening.”   
  
“Do you need any other ally in a room than my aunt, Elizabeth? Yes, I am glad I came, I mean to draw Lady Spenbourgh-- at least perhaps a sketch of how she has arranged her hair. Will you promise to sit for me also, cousin?” She politely stifled her weary yawn, “someday-- I should like to paint you properly, even though I am sure my brother would not think that I could do you justice.”   
  
Elizabeth laughed, “Go to bed, my dear. Your maid will be glad that you are not yet out-- she will not have to stay up so late. Judd informs me that ladies maids look on these events as something of a trial of fortitude. You may draw me at each and every occasion that you please, so long as you do not expect me to remain still for hours at a time. Perhaps you might come to Rosings soon-- we are to return very shortly, perhaps even next week. I look forward to the time when I can return to Derbyshire, I am very partial to it as a county. To bed with you, will you think me forward if I embrace you? I must, you know, my happiness will not be contained this night and your being here has added yet another delight.”   
  
This effusive affection, so different to anything that she had been used to, caused Georgiana to blush and rather incoherently stammer that she was delighted-- she was honoured by her cousin’s favour. Darcy approached then, having been caught in a brief exchange with Lord Salisbury, and dropped a gentle kiss on Miss Darcy’s forehead. 

“To bed with you my dear-- if Aunt Catherine thinks you remained a minute longer than is necessary she will let me know it in no uncertain terms.”

Georgiana departed and Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth. “Come along then, are you hungry?”   
  
“No, Fitzwilliam, not a bit! It makes no sense at all for I have not eaten a thing since luncheon and even Judd could not tempt me before I dressed.” Lizzy laughed, “Perhaps I was more nervous than I admitted to myself. I may have calmly disclaimed that I was worried you would not come, but I acknowledge that the thought did cross my mind. When shall you tell Georgiana, my dear? I do hope she will not mind that she must share you with me.”   
  
“I think it more likely that she will object to my wanting to share you, judging by how she could talk of nothing else when I was by her during the dances. I will speak to her in due course, once I have spoken to your mother.”   
  
“Oh, do tell me what Papa said, Fitzwilliam! He was always jesting when I was younger that he should solemnly list every one of my faults to potential suitors in order to see if he could frighten them off. Jane always fretted that he meant it.”

A wry smile appeared on Mr. Darcy’s face but whatever he meant to reply was delayed by a matronly lady catching his attention and he politely tolerated her conversation whilst evading her attempt to foist her daughter on his notice. Elizabeth enjoyed his skilful evasion and soon they were once again on their way to their place at the dining table. 

“How outraged the matrons will be when they hear,” she said softly, “I will have to hide away at Rosings for the duration of our engagement. When we are safely married I will perhaps dare to venture out, perhaps by then society will have either reconciled to their disappointment or will be reduced to hoping for your widowerhood.”

“I trust not. You wanted to know what Mr. Bennet said when I asked him for your hand?”   
  
“Yes, of course-- was it very bad? Did he indeed live up to his teasing promise?”   
  
“No, he was quite restrained, but I think pleased when I said that I could not contemplate marrying you without his sanction-- he asked me if that was my diplomacy or yours. An answer did not come readily to that, which I believe he briefly enjoyed. He quickly abandoned any intent to amuse himself at my expense, however. I had two advantages, you see. Firstly, in having brought Mrs. Wickham safely home to Longbourn and secondly, having been preceded into your father’s bookroom by another hopeful suitor.”   
  
“Fitzwilliam! I can hardly believe it. Do you mean to tell me that Mr. Bingley has finally asked for Jane? Tell me at once, are they engaged?”

“They are indeed engaged,” he smiled, “Charles told me that he had hoped to ask for her before Mrs. Wickham was found, but Miss Bennet could think of nothing but the welfare of your sister...and also of  _ your _ anger with her.”   
  
“Oh, my poor Jane-- she has never liked discord at all. I must write to her! She is engaged then-- I am so glad, Fitzwilliam, she will marry a good man that she loves, what woman could ask for more than that?”

“Quite so, niece, quite so. Your view of the matter does you great credit-- it is a view that every young woman would do well to consider, my dear.”   
  
“Uncle! I did not observe you. My sister, Miss Bennet, is to be wed to one of Fitzwilliam’s oldest friends-- I am incandescent with joy.”   
  
“Good. One marriage  _ often _ begets another,” here he paused to wink at his nephew, much to Elizabeth’s amusement. “I heard a rumour that my niece and nephew were dancing the waltz in my ballroom-- for a third dance, in fact. I thought I should investigate the matter, in my role as the head of the house of Fitzwilliam.”   
  
“And how goes your investigation, Uncle?” asked Elizabeth innocently.

“Doesn’t seem like the sort of thing Darcy would do, does it? More in my friend Salisbury’s line. He was the one who came scurrying over to tell me, seemed to think it was terribly romantic or some such drivel. He had the nerve to ask me if I thought Catherine would care for such treatment if he were to arrange it at some future occasion.”   
  
“Did he?” asked Lizzy, sounding pleased, and nodding her thanks to Mr. Darcy, who was waiting to seat her, “I do not think he should, however charming the desire.”   
  
“Just what I said,” replied Matlock, “I told him to go and have a cup of coffee to sober up, evidently he has had one too many glasses of champagne. She’d box his ears! Well, we can ignore Salisbury then, if he will go about imagining my staid nephew whisking you off into an impromptu waltz he’ll find himself running foul of my sister, poor fellow. Ha!” The Earl left them and went to his own seat.

Fitzwilliam sat down beside her, “I have realised only today that my esteemed uncle thinks me a very dull fellow. I am glad to have secured your affections before he attempts to further a match between us any more, I shouldn’t want you to be discouraged.” 

“You do not look to be very offended, my dear.”   
  
“I am able to readily dispense with opinions that do not please me.”   
  
“Thus speaketh the head of the house of Darcy-- I will encourage our children into similar respect for your notions as you have toward the Earl.”   
  
He smiled with obvious pleasure at the thought, and then a little wider as some stray thought amused him. 

Elizabeth noticed and looked inquiringly at him, “what has entertained you? Have you dreamed up suitable revenge for my encouraging the little Darcy’s into filial disobedience?”   
  
“No,” he said slowly, “but I fear that the source of my amusement may displease you-- it occurred to me that her ladyship may well forbid any mention of the fact that she should be a grandmamma.”   
  
“It is the sort of thing she might do… although she thinks of herself as older than she is already, so she may well adjust quickly.”   
  
“Oh yes, certainly, by the time we present her with our eighth child for her inspection she will be impressively unruffled.”   
  
“Eighth!”

“There you are, you were very nearly late by Mama’s standards, did you know that Uncle Matlock wishes to propose a toast in your honour, Lizzy? Mama has said that he might, but that he must not be lengthy.”   
  
“Eight?! Anne-- Fitzwilliam wants  _ eight  _ children _. _ ”

Anne’s brows rose and she looked piercingly at her impassive cousin and then to Elizabeth, who quickly blushed.   
  
“I see. Is he being a little precipitous? No, I hardly need to ask that, it would seem that he  _ must _ be given that you have not had any opportunity  _ to speak to Mama _ . Not that you would do so here.”   
  
“Of course not. I beg your pardon, Anne-- I did not intend to say anything, Fitzwilliam surprised me, that is all.”   
  
Anne calmly shrugged her shoulders, “it was rather expected, Lizzy. That said, if you do not want a dozen children, you had better not have him.”   
  
Mr. Darcy quickly interjected, “She is rather honour bound now, Anne.”   
  
“If you did not state clearly your expectations of turning my sister into a broodmare when you asked her to marry you then she is no such thing.”

“Anne!” exclaimed Elizabeth, greatly surprised by her elder sisters waspish tone, “he doesn’t mean to do any such thing.” She took Anne’s hand in hers and leant forward to whisper in her ear, “Do not spread this abroad, but _ I  _ asked  _ him _ .”   
  
“Did you really?” Elizabeth nodded and her sister looked torn between laughter and some less definable emotion. “Well-- I suppose there is little point in my offering any assurance that you need not have him if you do not want him.”   
  
“I most assuredly do want him, Anne,” Lizzy replied firmly.

Anne nodded once, “we will talk later, sister”, and then she quickly left them, looking a little defeated. 

“She is unhappy, I feared that she might be, Fitzwilliam. How do I make her believe that having been found once, that I have no intention of ever being lost by them again?”   
  
“You cannot force belief, my love, it tends to come with time and when it is not looked for.”   
  
“Papa said something similar to me before he left for Rosings, I cannot recall exactly what, I remember teasing him about his belated attempt to sound very wise.”   
  
“She will see the evidence of your intention, Elizabeth, and will realise that you may see as much of her as you please after we are married.”   
  
“I know,” came the quiet reply, “ but I wish that she were as happy as I am.”

“Anne will adjust,” said Mr. Darcy, very gently, “I do not think that she rationally expected you to remain unmarried and at Rosings all your life.”   
  
Elizabeth smiled fondly, “to Anne that would be a rational course of action, but no, I do not think she expected that-- but perhaps she never anticipated finding her little sister and then that same sister tumbling headlong into love within the space of a year.”   
  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  


  
  



	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand this tips us over the brink of 100k words.
> 
> No, hang on, this needs to be written properly. 
> 
> I have written ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND WORDS of Far From the Tree. 
> 
> I refer you all to my note at the very beginning that said, "I suspect it could go so far as 20 chapters."
> 
> Ha! 
> 
> Happy reading!

_Matlock, Derbyshire_

_My dear family,_

_I write bearing the best of good tidings, but I first must wish Jane every joy and happiness in the world. Mr. Darcy related to me that Mr. Bingley had, finally, declared himself when we danced together at my ball. I do not doubt that you will be a very happy woman, my dear deserving sister._

_I had previously promised Mama and Kitty a description of the event in full, but having also assured Papa that I will not try his patience too much I fear a compromise must be sought. Is that not the way of my life at present? To find a middle ground that will keep everyone as happy as possible? Perhaps I ought to one day take on the role of an ambassador in some foreign place, I should doubtless excel in the occupation._

_I opened the ball with Mr. Darcy and did not sit down for a set after that. My feet were aching the next morning, a circumstance that Judd had anticipated and made me soak my feet in epsom salts that very night-- I was bone weary and begged that I might just go to bed, but she was adamant that I must obey her and so I sleepily submitted. I will go so far as to admit that the aching might have been considerably worse had I not. I asked Mama and Anne the next morning if their maids had been quite so tyrannical but given that I was the only lady of the de Bourgh family to dance at all it had not been necessary for their maids to bully them into anything other than their nightgowns._

_If Papa should like to hand this letter to Lydia to read aloud and stop his ears with his hands I shall now engage to please those of you who are not sat with their backs to the window. I picture you in my minds eye quite clearly, you are all snugly sat about the breakfast table and perhaps Hill has just taken away the coffee pot to be refreshed. Give my regards to Hill, would you? Tell her that there is no one at Rosings or even Matlock that has her way with bringing in a coffee pot at precisely the right time during a meal, be it so well-timed as to defray a family argument or to put a sister into just the right mood for wheedling._

_I wore a light silk dress to the ball, it was predominantly cream but with little yellow roses embroidered onto it, the cut of it suited me admirably and I fancy that Madame Joubert even contrived to give the impression that I am taller than I am in it. There was a very fine lace that frilled about my neckline and was on the demi train also. I liked the train much more when walking about in general but did not so much like to loop it up for dancing, for all that it showed how well my dancing slippers matched the yellow of my roses. Over the cream silk, I wore a three-quarter length overdress made from muslin. That, if you please, was of my insistence. I have worn muslin at every ball and assembly that I have ever attended and it seemed as though I must have some of my Bennet side on ready display. It was a sort of armour, if you will, against the grand people that I was presented to that evening. I remembered that I was_ _first_ _taught good manners and kindness in Meryton, and those things at least, I would carry with me on proud, most outward display._

_The dancing went on until at least one o’clock and I shudder to think what Papa should make of the number of wax candles that were burnt to their sockets. It is fortunate that my uncle, the earl, is disposed to be very pleased with me or surely he might consider that I am scarcely worth the expense._

_Has Papa looked away from the page for a sufficient length of time? Shall I now relate to you my news? He has stolen a march on you (Richard’s expression, which I find so apt that I must borrow it occasionally) and quite probably kept it from you all that when he was at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy approached Papa for permission to pay his addresses to me. I can now reveal to you that the afternoon following the ball, that same Mr. Darcy likewise applied to her ladyship and after some intensive negotiation, we are now officially engaged and you may look for the notice of it in the London papers very soon._

_My joy is mingled with a little sadness, for however delighted Mama is to give me away to a man of such good character as Fitzwilliam, it seems that our wedding will not happen very quickly. Lady Catherine has stipulated, quite firmly, that there must be at least a twelvemonth long engagement period. I see the reasoning behind this, having dreaded the wrench of separation myself-- indeed, having felt it. There is no one, I do not think, that can have felt the misery that comes with being away from ones family more than I. I reasonably pointed this out to Mama and in typical fashion she used it as the convincing argument why I should accept a long engagement with good grace._

_Mr. Darcy, who had previously assured me that we need not rush into anything and that he would be quite willing to wed me whensoever I am ready to (really, I must speak to him about appearing a little more enthusiastic for our nuptials) has said that he will wait for me as long as is necessary. Mama relented a little at that and said that she would not make us wait forever, we are permitted to write and he intends to haunt Rosings just as often as he is able._

_Pray write to me, my dear sisters, and give me all manner of advice on how I can bring Anne around to the match. She is not jealous of me, I know that much for certain, but she is unhappy that I will go away to live at Pemberley with Fitzwilliam, even if it is a year hence. How can I convince her that a sister is firmly rooted inside the heart, inside_ _my_ _heart, no matter the miles that may separate us? It is that same, firmly rooted affection which means that there is no necessity for grudges or apologies from either party regarding my last letter to you, written in a spirit of annoyance and hurt. My dear family, could I not have clearly seen that your intentions were ever loving?_

_We are to Rosings very soon, Autumn is not so far away now, and my mother and sister like the cosiness of Kent rather better than Matlock or London. So the distance between us all will lessen considerably once again. Perhaps I may manage to descend upon you-- I will get into a carriage very early and enter the breakfast room to take my usual chair beside the future Mrs. Bingley and Papa. Ah! I have thought just now, that surely Mr. Bingley will want to sit in that enviable position. No, I have now changed my mind-- tell Mr. Bingley that when he calls at Longbourn during the engagement period, that he may have my chair with my blessing but that I will shuffle him out of it in a very sisterly fashion whensoever I next have need of it._

_Yours &c _

_Elizabeth_

“There, Fitzwilliam, I have finished. I see that you have finished your letter with far more efficiency than I and have been sat staring at me for several minutes.” Elizabeth, carefully laying down her pen, laughed suddenly. “How I used to wonder at you when I came to Netherfield for Jane! You watched me as unwaveringly as you do now but I did not know you so well as I do now.”

“Or love me so well, Elizabeth. You see admiration more readily now than then because you feel some measure of it yourself.”  
  
“Some measure! Fie, Mr. Darcy! Do you dare to claim the greater share of affection between us? We will soon quarrel if you do.”   
  
“I am willing to be proven wrong, Miss de Bourgh.”   
  
She shook her head, “you never call me that, I will not be distracted, however adept you think yourself at flirtation. Yes, I see quite plainly what your object is, but I remind you, my dear love, that Mama has only stepped out so far as my uncle’s library and Anne has been watching us like some sort of bird of prey and will scold dreadfully if she catches us kissing. It will have to be the box garden again.”   
  
“Anne has not relented at all?”   
  
“She is as prickly as a bear! It reminds me of Mary’s exasperation with Lydia’s frivolity of a morning after a dance. She will engage with me pleasantly enough on any other subject than you but if I try to speak of our engagement and that it does not mean I love her any less, she quits the room. If she continues so for much longer I will make a kind of sport of it and see how many rooms I can follow her into before she explodes like a keg of gunpowder.”

“She will have to adjust before our wedding.”  
  
“Yes,” said Lizzy, a little wistfully, “or she will have an abundance of regret. It is frustrating, Fitzwilliam, we might be enjoying this time we have together but her stubbornness is casting such a pall on things. I can comprehend that Mama stipulated that we wait a year for good reason, Anne’s feelings included, but if I may not speak of you openly then it will be an excessively awkward twelvemonth.”   
  
“At least we may write-- you can always tell me of your devotion and adoration instead,” he suggested, with no real expectation that she would agree.

“Oh no, I am told that we women must _never_ tell a future husband such things. Apparently they become spoiled and then turn quite unmanageable.”

“I suppose your mother has been giving you advice? I mean no disrespect to her ladyship but I hope our marriage will be rather different to hers. You should feel free to offer me reassurance of your affections as often as possible.”  
  
“Oh, should I? Very well then. It may interest you to know, my dear, that whilst your staring at me might have irritated and mystified me by turns at Netherfield, more recently I have had to keep myself in stringent check so that I do not fling myself at you when you sit and look at me with such an expression on your face.” 

“I applaud such self-restraint but it is quite unnecessary.”

Elizabeth, amused by his air of satisfaction, continued, “do you think me vain, Fitzwilliam? I hope that this reaction to obvious admiration is limited only to you, I should find myself in dire straits if it were not.”  
  
“It is _certainly_ limited only to me.”   
  
“But are you quite sure?”   
  
“Yes. You now have a pressing desire to see the box garden.”   
  
Happily, Lizzy took the hand that was offered to her and stood, just as Lady Catherine walked in. She looked pointedly at their joined hands.

“I see my timing is impeccable as ever. Your letters are finished?”  
  
To his credit, Mr. Darcy did not release Elizabeth’s hand. His courage was rewarded by the gentle press of her fingers. It moved him to speak to his aunt with the confident authority of a man who had been many years his own master.

“I am taking Elizabeth out for a walk, Aunt Catherine-- she has expressed a desire for exercise.”   
  
Lady Catherine waved her hand, graciously granting the permission that had not been sought, “you may take her out of course, Darcy.”   
  
“Thank you,” he replied politely and tugged at the hand in his to quit the room. 

As they were about to pass through the door Lady Catherine spoke again, “you will take Judd with you, of course, daughter.”  
  
Lizzy stopped short in the doorway, “Judd! Mama, I have been on countless walks with Mr. Darcy, have sat alone with him for hours together and have never felt the need for a chaperone.”   
  
“Young people rarely feel the need for a chaperone, my dear, it is the privilege of the aged and the experienced to see one as a necessity. You will take Judd or remain indoors.”

“Mama!”   
  
“Is there a good reason that you are so eager _not_ to take her with you, Elizabeth?” asked Lady Catherine with a knowing look.

Darcy addressed his aunt rather stiffly, “I assure your ladyship, that I am no threat to Elizabeth. I am quite able to behave myself, madam.”  
  
With some surprise, Lady Catherine shifted her piercing gaze from her blushing daughter to Fitzwilliam, “I do not suppose that you are, Fitzwilliam but I cannot guarantee that my daughter will behave _her_ self. I have your best interests at heart, my dear nephew.”

Flummoxed and more than a little embarrassed that she could not honestly refute her mother’s assertions, Elizabeth withdrew her hand from her betrothed and tugged with unnecessary force on the bell cord than hung nearest to her.

“Enjoy your walk,” said Lady Catherine de Bourgh, with all the mild magnanimity of a triumphant queen.  
  


  
  
  
  
  



	49. Chapter 49

It transpired that Judd was not so daunting a chaperone as Lady Catherine de Bourgh might have wished her to be. Elizabeth eventually relented and took her maid out with them for the last few precious walks that she could share with Fitzwilliam before she returned to Kent. It turned out that Mr. Darcy, when sufficiently motivated, was quite equal to the task of circumnavigating the spirit of his aunt’s commands. 

The first time the three of them had set out with Judd lagging a respectful distance behind, on a warm and bright August morning. It had rained the evening before and the gardens looked the greener for it. 

In a low voice, Elizabeth spoke to her betrothed, as she tucked a hand into the crook of his arm, “I would suggest that we should walk very quickly, my dear, and leave Judd behind as best we could but it would not answer-- Mama would only forbid us to come outside at all and poor Judd would be put in a difficult position. It is most annoying.”

Darcy smiled and turned his head a little to address the maid behind them, “Judd-- would you be so good as to walk with us for a few minutes. I should like some little conversation with you.”   
  
A flash of surprise crossed Judd’s face and she shot a glance to her young mistress, who looked as confused as she was. Elizabeth shrugged lightly and replied to the questioning look her maid sent her. “I do not know what he wants with you either, Judd-- I hope he has not tired of only me talking to him so quickly, it would not bode well.”   
  
Judd approached them. “Yes, sir?”

“Lady Catherine has doubtless had a word with you about these irksome duties of chaperoning Miss Elizabeth and myself...perhaps she has even offered advice regarding the diligence with which you should approach the task.”   
  
“There is no  _ perhaps _ about it, Mr. Darcy! This is Mama you are speaking of. Did she write down a list for you, Judd?”

Judd shook her head, “Her Ladyship did not feel it necessary, given that I am to commit her suggestions to memory.”   
  
Mr. Darcy gravely nodded his head. “I am sure your loyalty to her ladyship is everything that is proper. Your young mistress and I do not envy you your awkward position, still, the year until our marriage will eventually pass and then matters should be considerably simpler.” 

Judd considered this but hesitated before answering, “I had hoped that I might be permitted to serve Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley, sir, when the happy day of your marriage takes place.”   
  
“Quite so.” He paused significantly, “That being established, I place at your disposal any book in my library that you may wish to indulge in whilst we are out of doors.”   
  
Understanding very well what was not being said, Judd nodded swiftly, “I’m not much of a reader, truth be told, Mr. Darcy, but I have been thinking that I should be glad of the time outside to see to the hems on Miss Elizabeth’s handkerchiefs-- she twists them up when in a taking.”   
  
“Judd!” laughed Elizabeth-- “I would have you know that your loyalty will be noted but I should want you at Pemberley with me regardless. You must not tell Mr. Darcy tales of how I crumple my things if I am riled, it makes me sound quite childish.”   
  
“On the contrary, as your future husband, I ought to be given every bit of due warning that you are unhappy. I thank you Judd, from henceforth I will look to a twisted handkerchief and immediately act to conceal any heavy objects that might be launched at me.”   
  
Judd smiled, “never seen Miss Elizabeth in a temper, sir-- I meant distress rather than anger. Now, I have no sewing with me today but with your permission, I will sit on that bench over there-- tis a nice shady spot with such pretty roses over the arch above it, and enjoy the flowers.”   
  
“Yes, you ought to do that, Mr. Darcy and I will wander over to the fountain-- we will not go far. Should you like my shawl? I am not in need of it in the least and I fear that you will be chilled in the shade.” 

Mr. Darcy, who was known to be a liberal and generous master to his servants, blinked. It had never occurred to him that a servant’s comfort might be considered so kindly. Judd declined the shawl, but it was evident to him that she was fond of Elizabeth and her generous nature.   
  
He led Elizabeth away towards the fountain, “I wish I might adequately explain to you how much good you have done me, my love.”   
  
“So too do I-- what  _ can _ you mean, Fitzwilliam?”   
  
“That the things you do so unconsciously cause me to turn to self-examination and invariably some sort of self-reproach.”   
  
“I make you feel guilty?” she asked quickly, “I am sure I have never had any intention of doing so...not recently at any event.”

“Not quite guilt but rather your sweetness and consideration for others is a fine example. You will do Georgiana good too when you come to Pemberley.”

Lizzy smiled, “She is much too good as it is. When you were in London every suggestion that I made for her entertainment was carefully considered in the light of her frightening elder brother’s approval or disapproval. Still, I shall be very happy to heave her as another sister. She tried to make me believe that my having her for a sister is not anywhere near so thrilling for me is as it is her...given that I already have  _ five _ to my name as it is. Sweet Georgiana! Even Anne laughed at the muddle I made of telling her that it was not so.”

“Is Anne  _ still _ being difficult?” 

With a sigh, Elizabeth nodded, “I am afraid so-- it is though she is grieving in advance for a separation that has not yet come to pass. Mama says she will likely relent in a month or so. A month! Did you ever hear of anyone so stubborn? No, there is no need for you to have a word, I have seen how you work now-- poor Judd! As though I should have turned her off next year if she hadn’t obliged us by sitting in a corner where she cannot see a thing apart from the foliage!”

“I did not specifically tell her to do that.”   
  
“You implied it, sir, but we shall not argue. There are so few days left before we go, my dear. You will write to me? I will write sheets and sheets, the pen you gave me for my birthday will be put to very good use, I promise you that. Now, I will not be maudlin, I shall miss you dreadfully but I will think on that later. Oh look, our fountain-- see how charming it is that I can step up here on the ledge and be so conveniently nearer to your height. You will hardly need to even stoop down to me!”

In her prediction regarding the letters that would pass between Pemberley and Rosings, Elizabeth was quite correct. Georgiana, as well as her brother, wrote a great many missives-- feeling that she had not adequately expressed her delight in their engagement when given the opportunity in person. Elizabeth was not a creature formed for misery and unhappiness. She was able to return to Rosings Park with relative contentment that lightened into sincere pleasure whensoever she received a letter. The footmen who presented the youngest Miss de Bourgh with these letters said privately, when they were below stairs, that they never felt so cheerful in their work as when Miss Elizabeth smiled on them for bringing her notes from Derbyshire.

Anne de Bourgh’s silence on the subject of her younger sisters engagement lasted for nearly the whole month of September and even Lady Catherine, although gratified that her knowledge of her eldest daughter had been proven correct, went so far as to point out to her the foolishness in wasting what time they had left by making Elizabeth feel uneasy in discussing her wedding.   
  
Anne had not scoffed, she did not dare to do so in front of her mother, but she had certainly felt like she could have done. “Elizabeth is not in the least bit affected by me, Mama. She is happy enough, we played a pleasant game of cards last evening did we not?”

“That is because you have successfully taught Elizabeth that if she wishes to spend time with you she must not speak of one the greatest sources of her happiness. You will note that she has not even breathed a word of Miss Bennet’s nuptials either and they must be due to occur any day now.”   
  
Stiffly, Anne rose from her seat. “I am sure I wish Miss Bennet well in her marriage, but Elizabeth cannot expect me to pretend an interest in someone I have never met.”   
  
Lady Catherine regarded her for a long moment, “We might have pretended an interest I suppose, for Elizabeth’s sake. I wonder if I have been as guilty as you in my desire that she should only love us. It is not sound.”   
  
“I do not need to feel guilt, Mama.” Anne sounded decidedly defensive, “It is natural and right that she should love us, had...had  _ he _ not tried to murder Lizzy what would Miss Bennet of Longbourn been to a Miss de Bourgh of Rosings Park?  _ Nothing _ !”   
  
Her mother nodded, “Yes, I acknowledge the justice of that...but do you not think that if we had had her with us all these one and twenty years, that she might have  _ still _ married Darcy? They seem well suited to one another, so much so that it cannot help but soften my cynicism toward the idea of affection in a marriage.”   
  
“But in that situation, we might have had those years with her-- it wouldn’t have felt so...unfair. I wish you had sent Darcy on his way when he asked you for her hand.”   
  
“I might point out that longer with her wouldn’t have made our inevitable parting any easier for us. On what grounds might have refused him? Elizabeth would have been made unhappy with a complete denial of his suit. I instead incurred her disappointment, and Darcy’s, by insisting on an unheard-of length of engagement. I mean to know why you are wasting the additional time that I have given you. If you will only behave as a sister to Elizabeth when she behaves as you wish her to I can quite easily relent and permit them to marry sooner.”   
  
Anne looked a little worried at the thought, “no...no please do not do that, Mama.” Glumly she added, “she wants to visit Hertfordshire soon, particularly to pay a bride visit to Miss Bennet I suppose. That will give us even  _ less _ time. Why must she be so happy at the thought of leaving me?”   
  
“Yes, she has asked twice now. I have no good reason to deny her the carriage, Anne.”   
  
“But you do not want her to go either?” asked her daughter, a little eagerly.

“I am at war with myself on the subject,” replied Lady Catherine, a little crisply, “On the one hand, it has ever been my desire that she should be happy. On the other, I am afraid that if she were to depart to Hertfordshire she might remember too fondly her childhood there and never wish to come back again.”  
  
Anne was silent for a few moments, “I suppose the Miss Bennets might prove to be less intolerant than I have been in listening to her sigh over Darcy’s letters.”  
  
Gently, Lady Catherine nodded, “There is that, of course. I suppose there is something in her suggestion that we might all go together.”  
  
Anne’s expression, which had begun to seem a little more open, closed again and she shook her head. “No, I do not...it is too far.”  
  
It was her ladyship’s turn to sigh, “Very well but I expect to see some effort from you to make her feel comfortable again, at least regarding her marriage. You managed to tease her well enough about him before they became engaged, so it is evident that you do not take issue with your cousin. You argued for his character not so long ago, if I recall correctly.”  
  
“There is a world of difference between laughing with Elizabeth over a gentleman and him taking her so far away. Very well, I shall _try_ to make her more comfortable-- I love her dearly, I never wished her to feel that she could not speak to me of everything. _I_ am her sister after all. Where is she now? Has she walked out again?”  
  
“She has gone to call on Mrs. Collins, she will return soon-- she said that she did not mean to linger at the parsonage for long.”  
  
“Why? She does not like Mr. Collins.”  
  
“She was good friends with Mrs. Collins in Hertfordshire, Anne and she managed not to laugh once when he called on us the other morning to welcome us back to our own home.”  
  
Anne laughed, “It was a close run thing for her, I could not look in her direction when you scolded him for referring to her as cousin Elizabeth.”  
  
“He will not do so again, at least he is teachable.”

Anne paced to the window and looked out, there was a cloud of smoke rising from the far distance and she idly wondered if the farms had lit the fires so soon after the harvest had been brought in. “I suppose Lizzy has gone to the parsonage to speak more openly there-- they have their youth in common.” 

“I can comprehend your jealousy, my daughter, but you must exercise some control over it. You cannot deny Elizabeth her every childhood acquaintance.”   
  
Anne, her conscience pricked, spoke more forcefully than she intended. “Nor do I intend to Mama… I merely wish that she could see that past memories belong in the past. I do not begrudge her what went before of course, but neither do I think that the Bennets or a friendship with a clergyman’s wife belong in her present.”

It was an ungenerous speech that she regretted as soon as the words had left her mouth and she saw the shade of disapproval cross her mother’s brow. She regretted her words more heartily still when Elizabeth’s angry voice from the doorway made it apparent that she had heard.

Elizabeth did not look at Anne but addressed her mother. “I have returned from my visit with my _dear_ _friend_ , as you see, Mama but I have decided that I am going out again for a walk. Do not wait for me at luncheon...I am not in the least bit hungry.”

“Sister, wait. Do not go-- I beg your pardon, I should not have said it-- I did not mean…” Anne spoke rapidly, and with more humility than she was used to. Her cheeks burned and it seemed essential to her that Lizzy should hear her apology and forgive her.

Elizabeth de Bourgh however, feeling all the sting of bitter disappointment had whirled about and would not listen. By the time Anne had left the window in pursuit, Lizzy was gone. Anne, panicked, moved to follow her but Catherine raised her palm to check her.    
  
“I will not tolerate my daughters chasing one another about the house. You certainly owe Elizabeth an apology, Anne but you had much better wait until she has walked off some of her anger. She will return later on and you may speak then." 

  
  
  


  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  



	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. 
> 
> If you are of a sensitive disposition and do not like angst DO NOT READ this chapter until I have posted chapter 51 later on today. I intend to get it up as soon as I can but I want to have a final read through and make a few changes first. 
> 
> Apologies that I am a little late-- I have been working hard so as to get both chapters up as close together as possible. 
> 
> I would also like to reassure readers that I ship Darcy and Elizabeth all the way to their Happily Ever After.

Lizzy walked quickly, feeling all the stinging disappointment welling up within her but she dashed away the angry tears that fell on her cheeks. At first, she walked without any consideration for which direction she took, thinking only that she needed to be away from the house, away from Anne who would so mercilessly cut away those who had loved her for all her childhood. The import of Anne’s words loomed large in her mind and she winced from the hurt of it.

Kicking at a small rock, Elizabeth watched it roll a little way the lane that led to the lane, her toe smarted at the impact and she sighed. Lizzy, as was typical of her, nursed her anger at first, dwelling on the grave injustice she had been dealt, that her  _ family _ had been dealt. She believed that was worse now to hear Anne’s true opinion than it might have been earlier on in their acquaintance. Then, she might not have cared so much but now... _ now _ she loved her eldest sister as fondly as she cared for any of her Bennet sisters at Longbourn and try as she might, she could not cut her from her heart. 

Yet however unhappy that she was at present, Elizabeth could not forget those sweet times where the two of them had talked until late at night together, how often her sister had held her hand when she felt in need of comfort. It had been a lonely adjustment in April but she had ever been aware of Miss de Bourgh’s presence and her desire to help her if she could. Anne de Bourgh was not  _ wholly _ bad. Had Anne not used that argument in Darcy’s favour once upon a time? It had been sound enough reasoning. 

Elizabeth looked upward and frowned. The day was a grey one in general, the sky being the colour of steel and the threat of rain looming. It would not rain yet, she decided, as she left the house-- for all that the wind buffeted her long coat and whipped the long ribbons of her bonnet into her face. It looked as though dark grey smoke was rising in thick plumes from the fields where the wheat had been so recently cut down. Her frown deepened, it was common enough practice for the farmers to set light to the stubble on their fields but not usually so soon. The risk of it spreading while other crops were waiting to be harvested was too great. 

Mama would know the details of it very shortly, little doubt. Lady Catherine de Bourgh had only to catch a faint trace of something amiss and she would insist upon knowing the truth of the whole matter. Lizzy’s expression softened a little, her ladyship would descend upon whichever fool was responsible tomorrow and scold them into never committing the same error again. Mama was dictatorial to a fault, but her heart was right and she always acted with the firm belief that her interference was for the best. Her nature may not make her particularly popular amongst the townsfolk, but it made her a far more admirable figure to her daughters. 

Turning back along the lane, Lizzy headed for the woods in the opposite direction of the smoke that was rising blacker now. She did not feel equal to encountering the inhabitants of the town. It looked like they should have quite enough on their hands without pausing to doff their caps to her not to mention that common sense dictated that one ought to move away from a spreading fire rather than towards it. 

She wished, perhaps unreasonably, for Darcy-- to have his arms about her again and hear his deep voice speaking reason and comfort into her ear as he bent his head near to hers. She thought, with some relief that he should be here soon. Jane was to marry the following day and Fitzwilliam had promised her that if Mama would not carry her into Hertfordshire, he would do so. She could trust him for that but had delayed as long as she could in asking him for his escort, in the hopes that Lady Catherine would order the de Bourgh carriage for her. Alas, her requests were evaded with care and skill. Elizabeth could see that her mother was attempting to avoid a direct refusal even as she evidently had no intention of aiding her journey to Longbourn. Lizzy might have argued the matter but given that there were other means available to her with which she might see Jane, she elected to keep silent for now. 

Having called on Mrs. Collins that morning, Lizzy had returned to Rosings with the intention of informing Lady Catherine and Anne that Mr. Darcy would very likely be arriving that very afternoon. Charlotte had reasonably pointed out, her hand resting on her swollen middle, that it was only polite to inform her mother that she was to have a guest for the night. 

“Besides which, Eliza, if your mind is so very made up that you will go tomorrow, what fear have you of Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh attempting to change your mind? You do not suppose that they would lock you up, do you?”

“Mama might if she thought it were for my own good.”   
  
“She would not!”   


Lizzy had laughed, “Oh very well, Charlotte. No, she would not-- but she will be disappointed. I remember how I felt when she was obliged to go to London for a few days before my ball-- irrationally bereft! I do not want either of them to feel like that when I tell them I am going to Longbourn regardless of how much they will miss me.”

“Mr. Darcy will whisk you there and back within a few days, it strikes me that you are all making a deal of fuss over very little. I must give you my letters for Mama and while you are here you must step upstairs and see what I have been sewing.”

As she turned off the lane and passed over a stile that gave entrance to a gently sling meadow Elizabeth thought fondly of Mr. Darcy. If only Fitzwilliam could come at that very moment, perhaps he might ride through the woods in search of her and they should meet by accident as they had the morning her mother had sent for her to question her about her birth. She shook her head and re-tied the ribbons of her bonne. If Lizzy were in better spirits she might have laughed at herself for dreaming wistfully of such romantically remote possibilities.

What a difference the passage of time had made to her opinions! She had disliked Mr. Darcy, misjudged Anne as being a haughty and indifferent character and assumed the very worst of Lady Catherine. Feeling eager for the challenge, Elizabeth walked quickly up the hill that led to the gate into the woods. She paused, breathing quickly, once she got to the top and watched a murmuration of starlings shifting in the wind for a little while before moving on into the wood.

It was a lovely wood, quiet and peaceful but well-tended by coppicers-- there was no difficulty in finding the wide mossy path that cut through the wood. Occasionally a small woodland creature scampered across her way but paid Lizzy very little mind, only hesitating briefly before heading in a different direction. She had walked through this wood often with Fitzwilliam in the early days when her trunks had been unceremoniously moved from the parsonage to Rosings and she thought for a little on this pleasanter subject. By the time she had reached the place where the trees grew thickest and the grey light of the day broke through the canopy but little, Elizabeth’s anger had dimmed a little in its ferocity so that she was able to think with greater clarity. Anne had borne Elizabeth’s judgements of her family with patience until Lizzy had become properly familiar with them and adjusted her first impressions. Furthermore, Elizabeth was able to ascertain the remorse she had heard in that hasty apology Anne had uttered before she had left the house even if she had not been ready to listen in full. That panicked expression of sorrow certainly helped Elizabeth feel that she could forgive Anne, if she showed a willingness to retract her dreadfully possessive opinions. Could her sister not see that love and affection expanded the more it was required? There was no need for so deep a jealousy. 

A half an hour of wandering amidst the trees did much good to restoring her to a more cheerful frame of mind. She would see Darcy by the evening and Jane on the morrow. Judd had been given orders to lay out clothes suitable for her sister’s wedding and not utter a word to Anne or her mother, Elizabeth had originally intended to rise from breakfast and inform the others that she would be back at Rosings on the morrow. She smiled, imagining how it would be to be at the wedding, surrounded by all that was familiar and beloved. Jane would be a beautiful radiant bride and Lizzy was glad that she would be there to see it. What a joy it would be to see Jane, Mary, Kitty and Lydia again-- not to mention Mama. Papa would kiss her forehead and her mother would fuss over her for a few minutes with kisses and embraces before recollecting that it was Jane Bingley who must partake of the lion's share of her attention that day. 

It was not really Anne’s fault that she had not been taught to share affection with four other young ladies as she had. She had done extraordinarily well in sharing their mother with her, given that she had never had to do so before. Upon reflection, Anne simply did not realise that in many ways the greater privilege of upbringing belonged to the Bennets. Lizzy had never felt the want of company and she had never  _ felt _ poor. She may not have had such fine apparel as she did now but really, what merit was there in cold unfeeling cloth? She almost pitied Anne.

She had almost completed her walk, intending to return to the house before the rain fell. Anne worried as much as Mama did and Lizzy found that the thought of causing them distress made her heart ache in her chest, perhaps it was on account of the circumstances of their separation but she gave greater consideration for their nerves than she had Mama’s at Longbourn. The edge of the wood was thinning out and Elizabeth enjoyed listening to the sounds that came from within the trees. A squirrel leaped across branches above her, its red tail bright and bushy. She rather liked squirrels, they were such adept and quick little things, for all that the farming folk were not so fond of them. 

At the first faint sound of heavy hoofbeats Elizabeth had just rounded a bend in the path and although she tried to see where the horse was, could not make it out. The sound reverberated in the ground and echoed off the trees, whoever was out riding was setting a furious pace. Elizabeth gave up attempting to locate the animal and walked on toward the sweeping grassy hill that sloped down toward the walled gardens beside the house. 

She turned her head again back toward the wood and paused in confusion when she heard the sound of hoofbeats become louder, and without any indication of slowing down. The noise, she discovered when she looked back up the hill behind her, had not come from a horse, but from a bull that even now was charging toward her, head down and angrily bellowing its intent to trample her.

She did not pause to consider  _ why _ this creature was in this field, nor why it should look so very angry. Elizabeth screamed in fright and turned to flee down the hill as fast as she was able. If she could reach the door to the walled garden she would be safe, she fixed her eyes on it. She felt, rather than knew, that the bellowing animal was gaining on her, that it would shortly be upon her. Her terror was great and her breath came in painful gasps. 

When she felt the horn of the bull touch her arm, she screamed again-- the shrill sound rending the air but sounding muted and dull to her, there was a loud thrumming in her ears that drowned out any other noise.

She registered the pain as the animal knocked her down but attempted to roll to the side regardless, some instinct directing her to minimise whatever damage it was going to do to her. Elizabeth felt keenly the great mass pressing down heavily on her left leg and heard the crack of the bone and then a duller one in her shoulder as it charged over her. It missed her head entirely, a blessing which she barely registered-- so shocked as she was by the last few minutes.    
  
Having passed over her the animal which was the same shade of red as the squirrel she had seen earlier, she noted irrelevantly, turned in a circle and stood ready to charge at her again. 

Her mouth was dry and her eyes wide as she watched it. She could not move-- her leg was almost certainly broken and besides that, the bull would certainly intercept any attempt on her part to get to safety. The situation looked hopeless given that she would never reach that gate in time. The wind whipped up her coattails again and the fluttering of it angered the animal further. The bull lowered its head and Elizabeth knew that she would die if it trampled her again. She wished at least that she could faint-- surely the pain from her shoulder and her leg was sufficient for it, was it not? If she was going to perish, why must she be awake for the ordeal? 

Elizabeth laid her head down on the grass and looked up at the sky-- the world was spinning about her, the dark clouds gathering ready to weep with her families on her still, broken body. She closed her eyes-- if she could not force herself to faint, at least she could avoid seeing that terrifying creature charge at her again. She wished, for a mad moment, that the wretched beast would cease with its indecision and get on with it. The agony of that pause was unbearable.

She waited, impatiently, for death.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for your patience. This chapter-- whilst not the shiniest, happiest chapter ending I have ever written is not so awful as the end of chapter fifty. 
> 
> It will be alright, ok? 
> 
> Feel free to hurl abuse at me in the comments box. ;)

When the butler entered the room, an hour after Elizabeth had quit it. Anne had not moved from her position at the window and turned round in surprise when Mr. Darcy was announced.

“Cousin, we had no idea of your coming. All is well at Pemberley, I trust...Georgiana is well?”   
  
He checked on the threshold, his brows rising a little when he noted Anne’s tear-stained face.    
  
“Your sister did not tell you? I offered her my escort to her sister’s wedding tomorrow. She wrote last week asking me to come. Anne…where is Elizabeth?”   
  
Miss de Bourgh had already spent a wretched hour filled with self-recriminations and Darcy’s words caused her to burst into new tears. He laid down his gloves on a table and approached her cautiously. 

“Come, cousin-- this is not like you, what is amiss? Tell me,” he commanded gently, taking both of her hands, “ and I shall see what I may do for you-- you are not ill?”   


“No, no Darcy. I am not ill-- rather I am sick with regret. Elizabeth has gone out...she overheard me speaking rashly and unkindly to Mama about… some matters that I ought to have kept silent about.”   
  
“About our wedding?” he asked gravely, “Anne, it was never your sister’s desire that you should be unhappy. I should never separate you-- if you want to come to Pemberley, you must do so. Her ladyship too must make her home wherever it most pleases her.”

“No,” replied Anne mournfully, “although I have hurt Lizzy regarding that too. I have been a  _ terrible _ sister to her, Darcy and she has gone off for a walk believing that I am selfish and cruel. That is the worst of it...she is right!”   
  
Seeing his usually composed cousin in the iron grip of her own guilt, Darcy drew her in and enfolded her about in an embrace as he so often had for Georgiana last summer. 

“Now, Anne. I know better than anyone how great Elizabeth’s capacity for forgiveness is. Tell me what it was that you said.”

“I do not think I wish to repeat it.” A quick glance up at her cousin’s determined face made it evident that prevarication would not do and she relented, “Oh, Very well! I said that I wished that the Bennets and all of Elizabeth’s friends from her youth might remain in her past given that we are her present.”    
  
Darcy was silent for a moment, Anne’s forehead rested on his shoulder and she did not look up to see his face. He did not push her away however, rather he patted her shoulder gently and when he spoke it was slowly and carefully.

“Poor Elizabeth,” he said, then he added, not without sympathy, “I imagine Anne, that you have been so strongly resistant to my marrying your sister in part due to this very point of view.”   
  
Anne raised her head from his shoulder, “Darcy? What do you mean?” 

“I mean that you have been afraid...because  _ you _ desire Elizabeth to reject her familial ties to the Bennets seeing as she does not live with them, that  _ I _ will do the same for the house of de Bourgh.”

“Oh,” said Anne, clearly not having thought so deeply on the subject before. 

“I should hardly need to tell you, Anne, that Elizabeth will not be dictated to in such a matter. Just as you have not been able to cut the Bennets out of her heart, no more could I succeed in making her forget you. I should not even try because it would hurt her.”   
  
Anne made a mewing sound and returned her forehead to her cousin’s shoulder with a small thump. 

Lady Catherine reentered the room and checked when she saw them. “Darcy! I was not informed of your coming, it is not good manners to descend on a place without prior notice. My niece is well?”   
  
“Lizzy knew he was coming, Mama, but she did not tell us. Darcy offered to take her to Miss Benn...to her sister’s wedding tomorrow.”

“I see.” 

“It is my fault, Mama. I ought not to have made Elizabeth feel that she could not openly ask.”   
  
Lady Catherine paused and thought carefully before replying, “ _ Our _ fault, Anne. If Elizabeth has not ordered the carriage as she pleases then we must have both been remiss. You do not hesitate to give the orders for the horses to be harnessed, if you do not go somewhere that is because you do not wish to go and not for any other reason than that. Your sister ought to have had the same liberty.”   


“Not so, Mama, I must bear the guilt in this. You tried to tell me-- we might even have gone together, as Elizabeth suggested but I would not. I wish she might come back soon, so that I can beg her pardon. We might go together to Hertfordshire...oh, but perhaps the Bennets might find it an imposition?”

“I do not think that they would, Mrs. Bennet is hospitably minded and had no difficulty in accommodating me when I bore her daughter back to Longbourn. There is a wedding to consider, of course. Elizabeth will know what to do.”   
  
“Anne I think that you had better come to me, my dear, if Elizabeth walks in now to see you in Darcy’s embrace I cannot vouch for her temper.”   
  
Darcy laughed, “there is no difficulty in my comforting Anne, Aunt Catherine-- Elizabeth knows that I am utterly and completely hers.”

His aunt looked pleased, “there is that, of course. Yes, what is it?” This last addressed to the butler who had quietly entered the room and awaited his mistress's attention.

“Peter Jessop wishes for a word with your ladyship.”   
  
“Send him in.”   
  
The groundskeeper entered and bowed, Catherine, gestured that he should speak. He was a quietly spoken man, never more uncomfortable than when he had to string a sentence together in the presence of her ladyship. The outdoors suited him best of all and those who knew him said that if ever a man preferred the company of animals to people, it was he. 

“The fire that you saw through the window has been set by Granger, Ma’am-- he  _ thought _ it’d speed things up an he’d get a head start on autumn planting if he burned the fields now, rather than waiting.” Jessop did not conceal his opinion of Farmer Granger's idiocy well. “We managed to stop it spreading far, your ladyship but it sent that new Irish bull mad with fright, ma’am and he’s got out of his field. Knocked over a boy who was fetching water to put out the fire-- Granger  _ tried _ to shoot it but only nicked him and that made the beast madder. I’m a goin’ back out with a gun-- he can’t be caught alive, that’s for certain.”

Anne quickly left Darcy by the window, worry etched on her face, “Mama! Lizzy has not returned.”

“Jessop, have you come from the town? Was there any sign of Miss de Bourgh?”

“I didn’t see her there, your ladyship-- but Granger’s bull was last seen heading toward the woodland. I was glad o’that at first but… I often come across Miss Elizabeth walking through that wood.”

“Have you a spare gun, Jessop?” asked Darcy, drawing on his gloves.   
  
“No, sir. Not here at any rate.”   
  
“ _ Gun room _ , Darcy. Jessop-- I want you to find my steward and arrange for him to arm every man in this house that is able to shoot a weapon. That bull is to be shot on sight and there is to be no hesitation. Come, Darcy, the sooner we find my housekeeper and hold the key in our hands, the better. Anne-- ring the bell for the stable master to come and instruct him to arrange a search party.”   
  
Darcy followed his aunt from the room even as Jessop turned on his heel to quit it. Anne ignored her mother’s order to ring the bell, deciding to go to the stables herself in the hopes that less time might be lost.

Fitzwilliam spoke to his aunt in calm and measured tones which were belied by the crease on his brow and hard look in his eye. He remarked to her ladyship that he should have preferred a weapon that was kept in good order, such as the one Jessop might have used. It was a testament to how worried his aunt was that she sent him only one withering look before rapping smartly on the housekeeper’s door and entering without any pause for an answer.

It took only ten minutes altogether for Mr. Darcy to be provided with an old but exceptionally well-maintained hunting weapon and plenty of shot. He encountered Mr. Jessop on the front steps of the house and urged him around the house to the lavender garden. 

“We will cut through here, Jessop-- Miss Elizabeth often ends her walks by coming down the hill from the wood and through the gate into the walled gardens. If she has been gone an hour or more she is possibly nearing the end of her usual route. I do not like to deal with tenuous possibilities at a time like this but it is the best we have to go on.”

“Very good, Mr. Darcy. The men will be able to cover any other possibilities. Best to head in the most likely direction first, sir. I’ll be glad when the animal is found-- nasty piece of goods it is, even when it hasn’t been scared out of its wits and shot at. Granger’s a fool.”   
  
The two men hurried toward the lavender garden and as they passed through the door that led into it they heard a high scream carried on the wind, coming from beyond the high, foliage-covered wall that stood between them and the hill that led up to the woods. 

His heart stuttered in his chest and Darcy could not speak, he only pointed to the door and broke into a run. Jessop, who had heard the cry also, ran with him and swung his weapon from his shoulder into his hands and was ready to fire. 

They both heard a second scream and the thundering of heavy hooves as they gained the gate and as it swung open, Darcy saw with horror, Elizabeth lying prone on the ground and the bull rounding about to charge at its victim a second time. 

Fitzwilliam Darcy did not pause, nor did he falter-- he raised his gun and aimed at the creature, the only thought in his mind to subdue it and clear the way for him to get to Elizabeth, and to ascertain if she were alive or dead. 

His aim was true, as was Jessops whose actions had perfectly mirrored Mr. Darcy’s. The bull had started forward but was prevented by the twin balls from the weapons and after lurching to the side for a moment fell heavily to the ground. 

Even as the bull toppled, Darcy was running toward the figure on the ground, Jessop hard on his heels. 

Fitzwilliam knelt beside Elizabeth as Jessop did the same beside the bull and after looking it over approached Darcy.   
  
“Aye, it is dead sir-- won’t be getting up again. Can we carry Miss de Bourgh between us or shall I find men to get a stretcher up?”   
  
Fitzwilliam Darcy’s hands had been anxiously hovering an inch or so above Elizabeth’s face, as though searching for a way to touch her without causing pain. 

“I don’t like the look of her leg, Jessop-- run back and get a stretcher. I want a doctor sent for immediately. I think she may have fainted, which is a mercy.” Mr. Jessop ran off at pace toward the open door that led to the gardens.   
  
“I have not fainted, Fitzwilliam,” whispered Elizabeth, her eyes still closed, “I tried to but could not.”

Darcy started visibly and exclaimed, “Elizabeth!” Hands shaking, Darcy cupped her face, “My love, look at me.”   
  
“I cannot, I have shut my eyes so that I do not see it come at me again, Fitzwilliam. If you are here beside me while I die I am very glad of that. It is all I wanted, you know-- to be near you for my whole life and yours so that when the end comes I may hold your hand.”   
  
“ _ Elizabeth _ ,” said Darcy again, “the bull is dead. Jessop and I have shot it-- it will not harm you again. You are hurt, my love, but not so badly as you might have been. Have you any pain anywhere other than your leg?”

“I do not know. I cannot feel anything,” she said almost absently, and then reluctantly opened her eyes. “I suppose you are actually real then, I have been wanting you all day, you know.  _ Are _ you real?”

He bent and kissed her gently, “Quite real, my love.” He sat back a little and shrugged off his great coat, covering her with it.   
  
“Oh, that is better, it feels warm. Ah!” she said then, sounding distressed, “It  _ hurts _ Fitzwilliam-- my leg and...and my arm, I think, but most especially my leg.”

“Jessop will come back soon-- we are going to lift you onto a stretcher and carry you back into the house. You will soon be in your own bed and the doctor will give you something to help the pain.”   
  
Elizabeth screwed up her eyes and let out a cry, “I think I should very much like to faint now. No, wait. I want you to tell Mama and Anne and also Mama and Papa and my sisters. I want you to tell all of them.”   
  
“What do you want me to tell them?” he asked quietly, glad that she couldn’t see his face just then. 

“Only that I love them all.”   
  
“You may tell them yourself, Elizabeth.”    
  
“You do not understand, it  _ hurts _ .”   
  
“I understand it perfectly, my dear and I wish that I could make it better for you, but Jessop will come back soon.”   
  
“Oh, Darcy. Are you not supposed to be weeping over me and declaring that you will never ever love anyone else so well as me or that if I should die there will never be…”   
  
“Elizabeth.” There was something in his tone that made her open her eyes again and look at him. It was astonishing that he should sound so firm and yet his face be white with fear. 

“I am sorry, Fitzwilliam-- I have frightened you.”   
  
“You must not say such things, my love. Keep your eyes shut now-- I can see Jessop and a few other men coming through the gate.” 

“Very well, but I should like you to take note that my shutting my eyes is not helping with this pain in my leg one little bit.”

“So noted.”   
  
“Darcy, it feels wet-- why does it feel wet?”   
  
“It is blood--the bone has broken through your skin.”

“Oh,” then, “that is going to hurt dreadfully. Will you hold my hand?” 

The group of four men came near and hailed Mr. Darcy, who moved a little out of their way but did not release Elizabeth’s hand.

Jessop spoke, “A rider has gone for the doctor-- her Ladyship is giving orders for everything to be ready. We are to carry Miss Elizabeth in through the terrace doors, there are fewer steps that way. Has the young lady spoken, sir? She’s in a faint? She’s not…”   
  
“If you will observe the vice-like grip on my hand, Mr. Jessop,” said Darcy with some impatience, “you will note that she is quite conscious. Now-- on the count of three we will lift her carefully onto the stretcher. That leg bone is broken, so you will be especially mindful not to jar it beyond what is absolutely necessary. One, two...three.”   
  
Lizzy did faint then, and when Jessop pointed it out to Darcy, the man nodded and looked relieved. Elizabeth’s hand had gone slack in his but still he held it in his as they moved their way down through the lavender garden and onto the terrace.

Neither did Mr. Darcy release her hand as they made their way through the dining room and into the hallway where Lady Catherine de Bourgh stood waiting, Anne beside her, pale and silently twisting the handkerchief in her hand.

He did not move from his position when the doctor came to set the broken leg and wrapped up the quickly darkening arm. At length, however, after the dose of laudanum had taken effect, Mr. Darcy raised Elizabeth’s hand to his lips and gently placed it down on the bed. 

“Judd will change her clothes now, Darcy-- it will be better for it to be done now, will it not?”   
  
“Yes,” was all he replied before he left the room with his aunt beside him. He waited outside the door, looking blankly at the portrait that had been hung on the wall opposite Elizabeth’s door. 

Dorothea de Bourgh stared back at him, her gaze equally empty and Fitzwilliam Darcy, after a long moment, looked away.

  
  
  
  



	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gnuh. I am now all writted out. Three chapters posted in one day is a lot and now I cannot words.

The bone itself, said the doctor, was not in itself a grave cause of concern to him. Certainly, it was a nasty break but he had been content enough with how well he had set it. The good doctor had served for a short time in the army and commented that he had seen young men walk well enough after similar injuries had mended. Horses, he considered, were not so different to cattle in terms of mass and if he had set the bones of unfortunate cavalrymen whose horses had stepped on them once, he had done so a hundred times. 

He believed Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh to be a healthy young lady, with much to be grateful for. There would be no squalor or filth in _her_ place of recuperation and he had privately thought that she was as pluck filled as any young soldier on the battle field. She had obviously been in great pain and, although unable to keep silent throughout the operation, had clearly endeavoured to conceal it as best she could. 

The grim-faced affianced husband had absolutely refused to move from Miss de Bourgh’s side when he had to set the bone, and his stone-like face was somehow worse to see than the muffled cries of the girl suffering in the bed. What concerned him, the doctor told him, was that fever for whatever reason, often followed these calamities. Miss Elizabeth had been brought into the house very quickly after the injury, certainly, and that was well, but he rather hoped that she would mend swiftly and without complication.

Her Ladyship was eerily composed throughout the whole ordeal and had calmly sent her eldest daughter from the room, and little wonder at that for the poor young lady was evidently distraught to see her younger sister in such a state. Lady Catherine de Bourgh stood silently behind her nephew, her eyes on Miss Elizabeth’s face for most of the time apart from when he had found it necessary to uncover the leg and _then_ her gaze did not waver from doctor Monmouth’s swiftly working hands. He found it unnerving, truth be told, one could never tell with non-medical folk how well they would cope with the reality of his profession but his civil suggestion that Lady Catherine should remove herself was met with a disdainful glare and a biting request that the doctor confine himself to his limited area of expertise and that she, Lady Catherine de Bourgh would keep to her rather wider one. 

Doctor Monmouth had looked to Mr. Darcy for support, fully expecting that the young man should eject his aunt from the room.  
  
“Get on with it man,” Was all the dark-haired gentleman said, and with that, the subject was dropped.

He had remained in the room throughout the night and carefully watched for signs of fever in the young lady, her temperature had climbed to its highest a little after midnight and she had called out for her repeatedly in her sleep. The doctor, who was sat in an armchair on the patients left side had watched with considerable interest when the girl in the bed had opened her eyes and looked first at Mr. Darcy and then at her directly at her ladyship.  
  
“I want Mama,” she said clearly, but her eyes were glassy. “Mama!”

Lady Catherine had risen from her own chair a little and stepped forward, her hand a little outstretched. Mr. Darcy frowned and looked at the doctor.  
  
“Has her eyesight been affected?” he asked, “there did not look to be any injury to her head, doctor.”  
  
“I do not think it can have been, sir, Miss de Bourgh looked directly at you and I am certain that she saw her ladyship also-- perhaps the fever is worse than I thought but no, her pulse remains quick but steady enough and her temperature is not so high you know...perhaps it is the laudanum.”

“No, it is not that,” enunciated her ladyship clearly and precisely, she looked at her nephew, “it was not me that she was asking for Darcy.” 

A long moment passed and the young man nodded, “Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, not without pity.

“Will you go, Darcy? To bring her mother here?” Doctor Monmouth found that he had to look at his patient again, he could not quite comfortably look at Lady Catherine.  
  
Mr. Darcy glanced down at the young woman on the bed, her eyes were closed again now but her hand lay contentedly in his.  
  
“I told her that I would not let go of her hand, aunt Catherine.”  
  
“Until when, Darcy?”  
  
“Until she releases me,” he said, with finality. “That said, if she wants Mrs. Bennet, then she shall have her...I will wait until morning and perhaps…”  
  
“I will go,” said Anne de Bourgh. She had been wandering in and out of the room for most of the night, staying for as long as she could before her mother urged her to take some rest. Miss de Bourgh would then dutifully retire from the room and return within the half-hour. Dr. Monmouth knew full well that she had not yet slept.  
  
“ _You_ , Anne?” 

“Yes, me. If I leave at first light, I ought to be at Longbourn just after Miss Bennet is wed and will therefore not interrupt that. I can then persuade them all to come, _all_ of them, and be with Lizzy. I am certain that if the Bennet’s will not offer me a room then there will be an inn nearby. I will take the travelling coach and we will be back here the day after next.”

“Miss Bennet may not care to have her wedding day interrupted but that cannot be helped.”  
  
“I do not think Jane Bennet will mind in the least, Mama. Elizabeth has said that she is as...as selfless a creature as ever lived and she loves Lizzy. My sister knows her sister. She will come. I will go to speak to the housekeeper now about opening up family rooms for them all Mama...and then I will go to bed until daybreak. You will have me sent for, will you not, if Lizzy’s condition changes?”  
  
Anne came near to the bed and sweetly kissed Elizabeth on the forehead, softly whispering something that the doctor did not catch. Mr. Darcy evidently heard it though for he caught his cousin’s hand and pressed it. 

“Anne, you know full well that she…”  
  
“Yes, I know it, Darcy but it still needed saying. Goodnight.”  
  
It was thus that Anne de Bourgh found herself the next day on the road from Kent to Hertfordshire. She had had very little sleep and so dosed off intermittently throughout the journey. They made excellent time, given her determination to hurry the driver along and decline any refreshment offered at the various stops her ladyship had recommended. 

She arrived at Longbourn with the weary intent that she should see it in as affectionate a light as Elizabeth did. She saw as they drew into Meryton, the bustling high street, just as Lizzy had described and the various lanes that she had walked so often as a girl. For the first time, Anne did not feel any lingering jealousy of these inhabitants nor resentment of the happiness of Elizabeth’s upbringing. 

She was let down from the carriage outside a large house of quite a respectable size and grandeur. It was not Rosings Park, certainly, but the pillared porch and large gardens were very pretty in their own way. There was a general hubbub of noise coming from within the house and it became louder as the butler greeted her at the door.  
  
“I am Miss de Bourgh, I should like to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, if I may. I know that Miss Bennet is to be wed today, I will wait for as long as is required.”  
  
Baffled, the butler bowed, invited Miss de Bourgh to step into the hallway and moved off in search of his master and mistress. Another door within opened quickly and Anne heard a delighted cry of, “but that must mean that Lizzy is here!” and then the hallway seemed quite full all of a sudden.  
  
Mr. Bennet came near and bowed, having ascertained that Anne stood alone, “Miss de Bourgh, a pleasure to see you once more. Is Elizabeth waiting somewhere about to spring out and surprise us all? This is my wife, Mrs. Bennet, my eldest daughter-- Mrs. Bingley, Mrs. Wickham, Miss Bennet and Miss Catherine Bennet.”  
  
Anne curtseyed. “I fear not, Mr. Bennet-- forgive me, for I bear no good tidings to you. Elizabeth had every intention of being here today, Mrs. Bingley, but yesterday an accident befell her and she...her leg was broken, it has been set but there was some fever last night and she…” here Anne looked directly at Mrs. Bennet. She was a pretty woman, a little younger than Lady Catherine but well dressed and elegant, “Lizzy was calling out for her Mama and so I am here to ask you all to come to Rosings. _Please_.”

“Well _of course_ we will come!” cried Mrs. Bennet and Anne was a little caught by surprise by how like Elizabeth she sounded. The tone of voice was not quite the same, Mrs. Bennet tended towards the shrill, but the expression and cadence of speech were remarkably similar.

Anne stared, “Forgive me, madam-- I was quite struck by how like my sister you sound.”

Mr. Bennet, unable to resist interjecting a jibe, even when worried, said, “Hardly surprising, Miss de Bourgh, given that Elizabeth would have heard her mothers voice more than any other in this house.”  
  
Mrs. Bingley stepped forward, “how do you do, Miss de Bourgh, Lizzy has written of you so often in her letters. I am so pleased to finally meet you.” She sounded so sincere that Anne bit her lip. “Do you think we will make it into Kent before dark if we leave very soon? I am afraid that we will have to bid farewell to our guests here but they are most of them dear friends that we have known all our lives, most of them know Lizzy too. They will not take offence.”  
  
Mr. Bennet shook his head, “we should never make it in the light, Jane, and there is no moon tonight-- as much as we are all desirous of going it is better to leave in the morning. I think we both know that Elizabeth would not desire you to throw out so many well-wishers on the day of your wedding...as entertaining as it might be for her to imagine you actually doing so. He glanced at Anne, and said in his dry way “it would be somewhat out of character for Mrs. Bingley to behave so, Miss de Bourgh, to say the very least.”  
  
“Yes,” said Anne, “I know.”  
  
“Miss de Bourgh,” said Jane sweetly, “Should you like to stay the night at Netherfield with us tonight?”  
  
Anne hesitated, “I am aware that it is your wedding day, Mrs. Bingley, I should not wish to interrupt. I am well able to find an inn I am sure, but you are very kind, madam.”  
  
“An inn!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, “Miss de Bourgh, you must do no such thing, you must stay with us, we have plenty of room and we would be honoured to have you here with us. It is very well to say that Jane is just this day married, for so she is and it is very good of you to think of it. But to stay in an inn-- no indeed!”

Mrs. Wickham spoke up, “Miss de Bourgh ought to stay in Lizzy’s room, for I vow that she has as much right of any of us to sleep in there.”

“More so, perhaps,” said Miss Bennet, thoughtfully. “I for one would think it very proper for Miss de Bourgh to stay in her sister’s room and…”

“Yes, thank you, Mary,” said Mrs. Bingley, gently, “Miss de Bourgh must stay wheresoever she pleases.”  
  
Elizabeth had been quite correct, Jane was very _very_ lovely. “I thank you, Mrs. Bingley-- I confess, as Lizzy might say, this is an adventure for me, I am curious to see where my sister spent so many happy years of her childhood. May I remain here for the night, Mrs. Bennet? Lady Catherine would rest easy to think of me amongst the family that has looked after Lizzy so very well, while we could not.”

“Of course, Miss de Bourgh, of course,” said Mrs. Bennet, a tremble to her lips and a flutter of her hands were amply able to express her feelings, “we are all so fond of Lizzy-- I will send a servant to see to your things, you have a maid with you? There is space in the servants quarters for her.”

Mrs Bingley drew Anne beside her kindly, “Should you like to rest, or do you think you would like to meet some of our guests?”  
  
“If I could refresh myself for a few minutes, I would gladly do so, Mrs. Bingley. I did not sleep well last night and I am not entirely comfortable with large crowds but I should be grateful for the distraction.”  
  
Mrs. Bingley’s lovely face clouded, “yes of course, how selfish we are-- you must have been so worried about Lizzy. Tell me, but I do not wish to distress you...she is not in danger?”  
  
“Doctor Monmouth does not think so, there was some little fever last night but it was gone by morning and her leg was badly broken. Mercifully her arm was not broken also as we feared, although it _is_ sadly bruised, but we are all...we are all greatly anxious. If anything were to happen to her...we could not bear it, I do not think.” 

Mrs. Bingley’s eyes filled with tears, brightening the blue of them and Anne was transported back to the moment when Elizabeth had complained that Jane could not even have the decency to look ill-favoured when she wept and Anne impulsively clasped the delicately boned fingers in her hands. 

“Forgive me, forgive me...I know that I do not _know_ you. I have behaved badly toward you and so selfishly kept Lizzy near me...I know that I do not know you,” she repeated, “but might you call me Anne? Elizabeth...she wants so badly for us all to know and care for one another and…”

It was not considered good manners to embrace one to whom she had just been introduced but Jane’s tender heart was stirred with kind compassion and she saw her beloved sister in the distress of Anne de Bourgh. Jane freed her hands, put her arms about her and gently drew her close. Anne, apologising still to this beautiful creature laid her head on Mrs. Bingley’s shoulder and gave up fighting away the tears that she had been battling against since laying eyes on her. 

  
  
  
  



	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, thank you for reading. In case you had missed it, we are definitely drawing to a close now-- there are a few more things I want to get in but the bulk of this is now done. There will be few more chapters to finish off nicely, perhaps. 
> 
> Thank you for your PATIENCE (it deserved caps!) for your encouragement and those lovely comments that have spurred me on. 
> 
> I have only posted Far From the Tree here on A03 and would be so grateful if you readers could let me know if you see it elsewhere.

By the time they had reached Rosings Park, Anne had decided that Mrs. Bingley- Jane, was much too good for this world. Anne had never travelled well, always being thoroughly exhausted afterwards, even when the coach was as comfortable as Mr. Bingley’s. It had been decided that Anne would journey with the them in their carriage whilst the Bennets should have the slightly larger, if more cumbersome, barouche box to journey in. It gave her the opportunity to speak at length to the Bingleys, or rather to listen to them talk quietly. Jane, from her correspondence with Elizabeth, had known that Miss de Bourgh would have a dreadful sick headache by the time they reached Kent.

“And you came to bring us to Lizzy, regardless, Anne-- how kind you are!” She had said with earnest sweetness. “How _glad_ I am that Elizabeth’s sister should be so selflessly devoted to her! Do not feel that you must talk to us, if you want to rest your eyes you must do so, pay no heed to Charles and I.”   
  
Charles Bingley, a pleasant man and utterly content with his lot in life-- had added his assurance to his pretty young wife’s.   
  
“After all, my Jane and I have the rest of our lives to talk as much as we please now, do we not.”   
  
The carriage had lurched a little going around a bend in the road and Anne had replied rather shakily, “I think you give me far too much credit, Jane. You do not mind, Mr. Bingley, that your honeymoon has been delayed by my request that you all accompany me to Rosings?”   
  
He considered this for perhaps a second before replying, “A fine fellow I should be, should I not, if I objected to my wife being with Miss Elizabeth. What is a delay to me, Miss de Bourgh? Jane would be wretched with worry for her sister, even while we boarded a ship. I declare that I shouldn’t enjoy myself in the least if she were unhappy.”   
  
“You were to Italy? I think I remember Lizzy saying something about it.”   
  
“Yes, but Italy will still be there once Miss Elizabeth is up and about and scampering about the countryside again. I’ll wager she will be up and about in no time at all, my dear-- I remember how she walked all the way to Netherfield to nurse you. I still remember Darcy’s face when he saw her, he was ever so surprised.”   
  
“And now I will do the same for her, Charles-- except not alone, as she did for me. There are more than half a dozen of us ladies to sit with her, why it will hardly seem any effort at all. Your mother will not mind, will she, that we will all want to take our turn in caring for her? We knew, you see, that you all had twenty long years in which you had missed each other and we were only missing her for a few months-- yet we are all anxious for her.”   
  
“I wonder that you do not despise us,” Anne’s sense of guilt was evident.   
  
“Despise you?” exclaimed Jane, her eyes wide with surprise, “oh _no_! How _could_ we, when Lizzy has written of you both with such great affection? It was surely so very understandable that you would want her with you, the circumstances of her being taken from Rosings were dreadful, I can hardly bear to think of them. That there should _be_ such wickedness in the world!” 

“I feel so wretched...Elizabeth was correct in every detail about you. She kept telling me that I should love you. How shall I manage if...what if the doctor is too optimistic? What shall I _do_ ?”   
  
“Now, there is no need to be thinking of that and you ought to bear well in mind that Lizzy _will_ see only the very best in those that she loves, it is her way. Blind devotion, almost, but one cannot help but loving her the more for it.”   
  
“Mama is like that.”   
  
“It will be so interesting to meet her.”   
  
“Aye,” said Mr. Bingley, “For it is a remarkable scenario, Miss de Bourgh-- who can know how much of your sister’s character is attributed to her upbringing or her birth. Our great men of science would find her a fascinating study.”

“They are not going to study her.” Both ladies who had spoken in unison, although in vastly different tones, looked up and met one another’s eyes.

Bingley laughed in surprise, “I’ve heard that fierce tone from _her_ , Miss de Bourgh-- when we were at Netherfield and she insisted that she was going to argue with Darcy. I think he was half in love with her then, without even knowing it. Jane, my darling, I was not suggesting that she should be poked and prodded or examined-- merely that the situation is of interest.”

“Rest now, Anne-- you look so tired. Charles will see to the changes and the sleep will do you much good.”   
  
Anne slept lightly, closing her eyes was a relief and lessened the sharp pain that pierced her eyes when they were open. Jane leant forward to lower the shade and then sat back to find that her new husband intended to put his arm about her waist. She smiled contentedly at him and leant her head on his shoulder.   
  
The carriages made good time and a little after two o'clock they drew up outside Rosings-- footmen ran out holding umbrellas aloft and they were escorted within the hall, untouched by the drizzling rain outside. 

Mrs. Bennet was ushered in from the second carriage just as Jane was handing her cloak to a waiting footman and looked up and about her, a little awestruck by the grandeur. She was even further impressed when Lady Catherine de Bourgh descended the stairs and stood, half way down, observing them. She wore a gown of clarence blue, that Mrs. Bennet thought particularly fine, and nodded to Mr. Bennet when he bowed at the sight of her.   
  
“This lady, I suppose, is your wife.”   
  
“Yes. Mrs. Bennet, this is Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

Lady Catherine descended the stairs slowly, her expression hard to decipher. She drew near to the other lady and their eyes met. If her ladyship’s countenance was carefully blank, Mrs. Bennet’s nervous awe was readily apparent. Her anxious eyes widened with astonishment when this regal-looking woman, _the daughter of an earl,_ bowed her head and swept her a deep curtsey before rising from with exquisite grace.

“Mrs. Bennet. You are welcome to Rosings, the service you have rendered to my daughter will not be forgotten.”  
  
“Oh,” said Mrs. Bennet faintly, making her own curtsey and fluttering her hands a little, “that is very good of you, Lizzy was her own reward, your ladyship. How is she, may I see her?”

“You may come up directly, Mrs. Bennet. Your daughters,” here she swept an eye over the assembled company, “will be shown to their rooms-- Miss de Bourgh made arrangements for you to be placed in the family wing, which will make visiting their sister easier. It is a large house and the walk from the guest suites would be irksome in the extreme. You, sir-- I take it, are Mr. Bingley?”  
  
Mr. Bingley bowed, thinking that Darcy’s aunt deserved her reputation, “yes, your ladyship, how do you do.”

“You took too long to come to the point in your offering for your wife, Mr. Bingley, according to my daughter, but aside from that my nephew speaks well of you and you also are welcome to Rosings.” To his relief she then turned her piercing gaze to Lydia, “Mrs. Wickham, well met, I see you have taken my advice in keeping to full mourning, I said that there was hope for you, did I not? Miss Bennet, Miss Catherine-- if you will follow the maid, she will see that you are comfortably settled.” Her tone was as imperious as ever but softened when she turned to her weary looking daughter, “Anne my dear, you have done well, go and rest now and then you may see your sister. She has been drifting in and out of sleep but is lucid.”   
  
Anne looked relieved and with that relief she seemed to sag and look every bit as exhausted as she felt. Mrs. Bingley slipped an arm under hers and gently offered to assist her to her room. Lady Catherine watched with some little surprise at the grateful smile Anne offered to the beautiful lady of whom she had been so wary only days before.   
  
At her gesture, Mrs. Bennet fell into step with Lady Catherine to ascend. She noted the fine sweep of the staircase and the ornate gilding on the paintings but did not gawp at them as she might have done at any other time. It had been a hard time for her since April, knowing that she would not see her second daughter for some considerable time and to be reunited with her in such circumstances was exceedingly difficult. She was not a woman who often troubled herself to regulate her emotions, why would she, given how much relief she found in a bout of tears? Mrs. Bennet had tried, however, to restrain her desire to weep noisy tears since Anne de Bourgh had turned up at Longbourn. She had swallowed her disappointment that Lizzy had not come for Jane's wedding, surely some delay had happened, given that Mr. Darcy had not come to stand up with Bingley either. 

Lady Catherine turned her head a little as they rounded the bend on the staircase and raised her brows. Mr. Bennet remained in the hallway, even as the ladies around him were busy removing cloaks and bonnets and Bingley was being directed by a footman.   
  
“Mr. Bennet does not wish to see his daughter?” She spoke to Mrs. Bennet and the other lady felt a frisson of danger run up her spine at the disapproval in Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s voice. She hastened to explain.   
  
“He is _dreadful_ in a sick room, madam. Believe me, it is better that he does not go near Lizzy until she at least looks healthy again. It was the same with all of my children, and myself, thinking about it. The midwife banned him from entering my room until my babes were gone a fortnight old and even then he worked me into a fret that he should faint.” Mrs. Bennet whispered the last, as though a little ashamed but Lady Catherine nodded.   
  
“Men are weak creatures, Mrs. Bennet-- almost without exception. My nephew, Mr. Darcy, has proven himself a pleasant anomaly. His devotion to Elizabeth is gratifying. Come,” she instructed, as they reached a door, “she has been sleeping fitfully but Doctor Monmouth says that he is content with how she does. He has been sent off to rest but will return when later on this afternoon.”   
  
The room was largely dark, with the thick curtains drawn across the wide windows but Mrs. Bennet could make out the general dimension of the room. Mr. Darcy was sat beside the bed, his hand was wrapped around Elizabeth’s and he looked as though he were in dire want of sleep. A candle nearby cast the shadows of his face into sharp relief and when he looked up at Mrs. Bennets gasp he blinked slowly and slowly rose to bow.

“How do you do, Mrs. Bennet.”  
  
He did not mind that the lady did not answer for her attention was firmly fixed on her daughter in the bed.   
  
She walked to the other side and gently swept Lizzy’s hair back from her forehead, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss there. 

“She has woken often, Mrs. Bennet-- the pain wakes her up.”  
  
“Oh, poor Lizzy! My poor, poor girl.”

She said nothing for some minutes, only standing there, tenderly stroking Elizabeth’s forehead. Her skin was warm, but not hot to the touch and her mother nodded with all the wisdom of one who had raised five children.

“When she was in her sixth summer, she fell from a tree-- not a tall one, an apple tree, and sustained some damage to her shoulder. I managed to keep her in her bed for a week and then she was outside again. She made me fret, your ladyship, but she has always been so...resilient.”  
  
Lady Catherine de Bourgh nodded, ever hungry for information about her daughter’s youth and Mr. Darcy brought a chair to Mrs. Bennet for her to be seated. 

“What was she doing up an apple tree in the summer, Mrs. Bennet?” he asked curiously, “if not for fruit, why would she go to the trouble?”

Mrs. Bennet clucked, “Elizabeth did not need a _reason,_ Mr. Darcy-- I made the mistake of telling her that young ladies could not climb trees and she took every opportunity to show me that she _could_ . Mr. Bennet found it amusing, of course, and did nothing about it until she injured herself-- but I will say that he hit upon a good suggestion that she should do it less often if she had to mend any tears she made in her frocks.”   
  
“I loathed needlework as a girl,” offered Lady Catherine, wondering how she could persuade Mrs. Bennet to relate more tales, to fill in the ever gaping gaps of Elizabeth’s life.

The lady, comfortably situated, was disposed to talk, “So too did she-- although if she could see a purpose in sitting with a needle in hand, she would. It was not any lack of ability, your ladyship, for her stitches could be as neat and as little as mine, rather it was all to do with disliking to sit still. Still, she fashioned a charming little doll for Lydia when she was born and that took her many hours.”

Content that Elizabeth had both of her mothers by her if she woke, Mr. Darcy bowed and excused himself from the room. 

“I am sure you have much to speak of, if you will excuse me I will retire for a little while-- and I had better write to Georgiana, she may wish to come to Rosings bear Elizabeth company in her own turn. Shall you mind Aunt? My sister will fret if she is left at Pemberley unable to help.”  
  
“I have no objection to my niece coming, Darcy. Your friend Bingley is here and you will want to greet him once you have rested. _Thank you_ , Fitzwilliam-- if Elizabeth wakes and wonders where you are I shall tell her that you sat with her faithfully.”

Darcy retreated from the room, wishing to find his bed and to sleep for a good while. He had only left the sick room for necessities since Elizabeth had been carried into it, dozing in the brief times that she slept. His body was weary and his eyes heavy. As he reached for the handle of the door he heard Lady Catherine softly ask a question of Mrs. Bennet and that lady’s more carrying voice reached his ears before the door closed.

“Oh, yes, _constantly_ your ladyship, it was a very thing that she had to come indoors for food or I am persuaded that…”

He walked to his room, his steps leaden with fatigue. Something unusual caught his ears however and he paused briefly in the middle of the hall to listen. Rosings Park had ever been a still, a silent house. Until recently that silence had always seemed to have with it the tinge of misery-- until Elizabeth came home, at any rate. It was not precisely noisy now but he could dimly hear the sound of ladies talking and doors opening and closing as the Bennet sisters moved in and out of one another’s quarters. 

As unaccustomed to it as he was, Mr. Darcy was pleased. These were the sounds with which Elizabeth had surely grown up and it would surely do her naught but good to hear them.   
  


  
  
  



	54. Chapter 54

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked blearily about the room. She felt that been sleeping forever and yet still felt tired in spite of it. Her leg burned and her arm ached. It seemed to her that every time she sought the oblivion of sleep it did not quite take her far enough from the pain. She knew she had been given laudanum when the doctor set her leg and was grateful that they had given it to her for she still remembered far too much of that ordeal. 

_Yet_ , she would not wish to forget it _all_ , particularly the moment when Fitzwilliam had released her hand cradled her in his arms at the worst of it. Somewhere fleetingly in her mind, she had thought to make him smile by pointing out that Mama would be shocked by his conduct but then the doctor set to work again and she could think of nothing but the pain.

Darcy was not, as he had been, sat at the side of the bed. She vaguely remembered a cool kiss to her forehead and the promise that he would be back soon, but she was uncertain whether she had dreamt that or not. 

In his place sat Lady Catherine de Bourgh who was listening intently to a voice Elizabeth knew as well as her own. Mrs. Bennet was not looking at Lizzy at that moment, so rapt as she was in her memories.

“She thrived once I got her to take my milk and _such_ a squalling she would set up when she was hungry! My sister in law tided her over with pap for the journey but Lizzy didn’t care for that. She was sadly weak by the time Mrs. Gardiner brought her into me, but then so was I-- I can remember as if it were yesterday.”   
  
“Mama,” said Elizabeth weakly.   
  
Mrs. Bennet's head turned sharply and her attention was on her child in an instant, “Oh, Lizzy. _Lizzy_! I always said that your scampering about the countryside would end in tears did I not? How do you feel, my poor girl?”   
  
“My leg hurts terribly... I can hardly be expected to account for a stray bull, mother. Do I remember correctly, Mama,” this she addressed to Lady Catherine, who had reached for the water that sat nearby, “did Mr. Darcy rescue me?”   
  
Lady Catherine stood and leant over her, water in one hand and Mrs. Bennet, guided by the same instinct as her ladyship helped to raise her daughter from the other side and arrange the pillows to her satisfaction.   
  
“There now Lizzy, how well we did that-- it is never easy to move a patient you know. Sip at the water your Mama has for you, it will certainly help.”   
  
Lady Catherine held the glass to Elizabeth’s lips and waited for her to drink. She was tired from the effort of sitting forward and soon sunk back into her pillows.   
  
“You will soon be strong again, my dear. Not only are you my daughter, with my constitution, but from what your mother has been telling me, you invariably recover swiftly from illness.”   
  
“Apart from recovering from my headaches, which you solved with your willow bark mixture-- yes.”   
  
“Indeed, Lady Catherine, it is such a pity we had no such tonic at Longbourn. When Elizabeth turned fourteen these headaches started and we couldn’t do a thing for her but send her to a darkened room and let her sleep. Poor dear, she suffered terribly with them.”   
  
“Anne was the same, she had no difficulty during childhood but once she left her girlhood behind they became fairly frequent.”   
  
“Where is Fitzwilliam?”   
  
“Asleep, my dear, he has remained with you constantly for these three days. To answer your question, yes, he saved your life from that animal.”   
  
“I remember that it knocked me down, that is when I hurt my leg and it was about to run at me again-- then Mr. Darcy came…and perhaps, Mr. Jessop?”   
  
“Yes, it was Jessop who reported to me what happened-- Darcy...I think he felt it acutely, for he told me to ask Jessop for his accounting.”   
  
“Poor Fitzwilliam. How he must have suffered and how worried you all must have been for me.”   
  
“Anne has been beside herself, I would be glad if you could see her soon. She journeyed to Longbourn to bring your parents and your sisters here.”   
  
“Did she?” said Elizabeth, “then-- she must have felt sorry for...before I left for my walk…”   
  
“She was sorry as soon as she said it. I do not deny that you had just and reasonable cause for upset but you understand that your injury has compounded her distress. Had you returned from your walk in a somewhat less dramatic fashion Anne would have begged your pardon for the whole.”   
  
“Oh, yes. _Yes_ , I know it-- Mama. Might you send for her, please? Before I fall asleep again? I knew that she was sorry before I quit the house. Dear Anne! She went to Longbourn and brought Mama and Papa-- and my all sisters? I must see them too.” 

“Judd,” said Lady Catherine, “will fetch Miss de Bourgh and then find your other sisters. They are all over the house, I am afraid, Judd-- you might try the music room first.”  
  
“Certainly, your ladyship-- I will directly, Ma’am.” 

“Thank you, Judd,” murmured Elizabeth.

“A pleasure, Miss Elizabeth-- a real pleasure to see you awake properly, Miss.”

She left the room and Anne came in shortly after, coming quickly to the side of the bed.   
  
“Lizzy-- you are awake, how are you, sister?”   
  
“Tired, and my leg is causing me considerable pain. Do come near, dearest and give me a kiss.” Anne did so, her eyes damp for what seemed like the hundredth time in three days, and as she leant in Elizabeth lifted her uninjured arm to embrace her awkwardly. “Thank you, my dear sister-- you have given me my whole hearts desire, so much so that I can bear this quite well enough.”   
  
Anne let out a sob and buried he face into her sister’s neck. She said something but the sound was terribly muffled and Elizabeth patted her back. 

“I cannot understand that, dearest. Say it again, only not so much into my pillow.”

Anne raised her head a little, her eyes were swollen and red. “I said, it is hardly enough-- given that I have wished so badly to keep you all to myself and not share you at all, not in the least little bit. I have begged the pardon of all of the Bennets and I beg yours also-- I was jealous and selfish, Lizzy.”  
  
“You must let it be forgotten now, Anne-- I forgive you freely. Did you indeed apologise to Jane? It is difficult to do that, so you have my sympathies.”   
  
“It _is_ , is it not?” said Anne, “She would have tried to convince me that _she_ ought to be apologising to _me_ , for having had you at Longbourn for twenty years.”   
  
“And you felt a hundred times worse afterwards than you had before.”   
  
“Yes!”   
  
“It is Jane’s way and partially why we all try so hard to not grieve her. She is married to Mr. Bingley now? Or did you interrupt the wedding?”   
  
“Your sister arrived just as we were done with the wedding breakfast, Lizzy-- her timing was excellent.”   
  
“Ah,” said Lizzy, sleepily, “I wonder if anyone thought to warn Mr. Bingley that he must not get himself into a position where he might need to beg Janes pardon. I told you, Anne, did I not-- that Jane is...”   
  
The door opened and in came Jane and Lydia.   
  
“Lizzy! Oh, Lizzy-- we have been so worried about you, and poor Anne has been terribly upset.”   
  
“La! Lizzy-- which side must I not sit on? Move over a little Anne, and make room for us to sit on the bed. Kitty and Mary are coming up shortly but Jane and I are much quicker than they. What a large bed you have, we can all sit on it comfortably enough without hurting you a bit.”   
  
Lady Catherine withdrew a little way from the group to make way for Mrs. Wickham to arrange herself close to her sister and lean in to kiss her. Mrs. Bingley moved a little more gracefully and perched herself on the edge. Mrs. Bennet, seeing Mary and Kitty enter the room eagerly, did likewise and came to stand beside her ladyship.

They watched as the one half of the bed filled up with each lady careful to arrange herself so that their sister was not jarred or moved.   
  
“I do not think she will last five more minutes without falling asleep, your ladyship, but I do not know that I have the heart to usher them out.”   
  
Lady Catherine had a curious half-smile on her face, watching as Elizabeth greeted them all in turn and seeing Anne’s sincere pleasure in her sister’s joy. 

“If I could have a painting of this moment I should commission it in an instant, Mrs. Bennet.”

“It does feel momentous certainly, madam," said that lady, agreeably.  
  
Elizabeth managed to last nearly a quarter of an hour of being peppered with questions and kisses before it was clear to her sisters that her eyes were closing even as she was halfway through a sentence. They did not need to be commanded from the room by either of the older ladies watching, rather a speaking look from Jane seemed to be all that was required for the sisters to slide carefully from the bed and file out. Anne linked her arm with Mrs. Bingleys and they left the room together. Miss de Bourgh’s heart had clearly been won over by the loveliness of her counterpart and Jane herself was ready and eager to love anyone that Lizzy did. 

Lady Catherine resumed her seat. “You were telling, me, Mrs. Bennet, about Elizabeth’s infancy. Tell me, at what age did she walk?”

The next time Elizabeth awoke, it was to find Mary beside her, reading. It transpired that Lady Catherine de Bourgh had given Miss Bennet the task of drawing up a schedule for each individual in the house who wished to sit with Elizabeth. Her efforts had met with her Ladyship’s approval, for she liked an organized mind and the result was seven, neatly drawn out, identical charts detailing who could be found in the sick room and at what time.  
  
“But I must draw up another, Lizzy, for Miss Darcy is to come to Pemberley the day after tomorrow and Mr. Darcy thinks she will want to take her turn too. You will have so many sisters, once you and Mr. Darcy marry.”   
  
“Is Fitzwilliam on your chart, Mary? I will make sure Judd tidies my hair before he comes if he is.”   
  
“No, of course not Elizabeth! It would be most improper. Lady Catherine and Mama have agreed that you cannot officially entertain a gentleman in your bed chamber.”   
  
Mary watched her sisters’ brows draw together and her mouth set in a firm line, “If my mothers think that I will quietly accept not seeing Fitzwilliam for months on end or however long it will take for me to mend…”   
  
“But,” continued Mary, as though she had not been interrupted, “ _seeing_ that he is your betrothed husband and that he is going to marry you as soon as you can walk properly again, they have said that he can come and go from this room as he pleases, particularly since there will be somebody with you all the time.”   
  
“Oh,” said Lizzy, her brow clearing, “that is well then-- I thought that they meant to keep him from me and I should never have...Mary!”   
  
“Yes?”

“Explain.”

“Mr. Darcy may come and go from this room as he pleases given that your mother is quite content with the fact that you will have a chaperone on hand at all times.”

“You know very well I did not mean _that_ part-- don’t tease me, Mary. I should like some water while you tell me what you mean by implying that I will not have to wait a whole year to marry.”   
  
Mary got up and held the water to Elizabeth’s mouth. “It seems that you have the sense of what I meant very well, Lizzy. Do you want more?” Her sister shook her head, “Well then, Mr. Darcy took exception to his not being included for nursing you. He was...quite forthright on the subject and if it were not for her ladyship Mama would have let him have his way. Then Lady Catherine said that Mr. Darcy should cease his attempt to cow her into complying with his wishes and I thought that should be the end of it, for she said it in _such_ a tone, Lizzy.” 

“Yes, I know the one, go on Mary.”  
  
“Well, Mr. Darcy said that he wished only for you to have what you wanted and that it was quite bad enough that the two of you had to wait a _year_ to wed but to prevent you from seeing whomsoever would make you happy would be wrong. I do not know that I should repeat what he said then, it was a trifle shocking.”   
  
“Mary!”   
  
“Are you in pain, shall I let you sleep?” asked her sister.   
  
“No, but your method of retelling is torturous. Tell me all of it, if you please.” 

“He said that you had chosen him and that her ladyship might try her best to keep him out of your room but she shouldn’t succeed. Then, to his credit, he blushed and begged Mama’s pardon- for he had not meant it so shockingly as it sounded.”

“Poor Fitzwilliam, he is the most prudish man in some ways but his mouth does misrepresent him on occasion.”

Mary nodded, “Yes, I had noticed that. Anyway, Anne reminded the two of them that you would certainly not like them to be at odds with one another and suggested that Mr. Darcy would be better off making preparations for a wedding as soon as her sister was up and about again. Lady Catherine said that she would agree to a wedding in five or six months time if her nephew would consent to abide by the wishes of all of Elizabeth’s parents whilst under her roof. She is a...rather an authoritative woman isn’t she Lizzy?”

Elizabeth smiled, “I think she is _wonderful_ , Mary.”

“So Lydia and Kitty have been talking of your wedding dress, Mama and Lady Catherine have been speaking extensively of menus and how many guests to cater for and Papa has naturally retreated to the library.”   
  
Elizabeth sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, “then all is well with the world, sister. I must be the most fortunate girl ever to walk the earth. I will get well as soon as I can and marry Fitzwilliam within half a year with all of my beloved family about me. Is this not the happiest, wisest and most reasonable end?”


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Anne de Bourgh displays a sense of humour that is a little dark.

Sir Edward Heatherton, a humble doctor who had been elevated to knighthood after his successful treatment of the royal family for the period of five years service, arrived at Rosings Park a week after Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh had met with her accident. Having been informed that she was the second daughter of a widow he was surprised to find the great house so busy.    
  
He was shown into the blue sitting room wherein two young ladies were sat at the pianoforte, another pair of ladies were sat at a small table that was covered with ribbons and lace and two older ladies sat quietly speaking to one another, whilst occasionally responding to a request for advice from the girls at the table.

The butler helpfully addressed the elder of the women on the sofa.    
  
“Sir Edward Heatherton, your ladyship.”   
  
“Thank you, you may go. Sir Edward, we are not acquainted, I do not believe.” Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s tone and demeanor might charitably be termed cool, she cast an eye over the cut of his coat and the bag he held in his hand. She did not know what was in it but she clearly thought little of it being brought into her sitting room rather than being handed over to a maid.    
  
The good doctor was known for his charm and smiled, “No madam, I have not yet had the pleasure. I have been sent here by a friend of mine. Lord Salisbury asked that I call in and see the young lady so unfortunate as to have broken her leg. I would by no means interfere with what I am sure is the excellent care of your own doctor, but Salisbury asked me most particularly to offer my services, given that broken bones are a particular interest of mine.” 

At the name of Salisbury, Lady Catherine rose and almost smiled, “that was good of him, he has been a good friend to this family, Sir Edward, and I should by no means insult him, or you, by refusing so generous a gesture. Should you like to come upstairs to see my daughter? Her eldest sisters are sitting with her at present.”   
  
“They are twins?” He asked, his interest caught by the unusual expression.   


“No, they are not related at all, Sir Edward.” She did not offer any further explanation and he felt it would have been rude to pry. 

They reached the room and Lady Catherine informed Miss de Bourgh and Mrs. Bingley that they might withdraw, Sir Edward had been sent by Lord Salisbury to see if anything further might be done for Elizabeth. 

A voice came from the bed, “If this gentleman will tell me that I may be up and about in the space of a week he may poke and prod at me all he pleases.” Miss de Bourgh moved out of the way and Sir Edward saw a dark-haired young woman, perhaps about twenty, with a sweet face, she smiled at him-- clearly of a friendlier disposition than her mother. The eyes, however, were always the clue and Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh was evidently in some discomfort.

He laid his bag on the floor by the bed and smiled down at her, “I am not a miracle worker, Miss Elizabeth but I may be able to do something for you. May I examine the leg, madam? I am certain that Doctor Monmouth, who I understand was in the army, will have done a splendid job in the setting but I do wonder if I may be of use in prescribing a concoction that will help you with that pain you are no doubt feeling.”   
  
The girl on the bed tried to explain, “Mama does not care for laudanum, Sir-- so I have only had it as necessary, it is not that I mind so much for it does make my head feel terrible. If you can give me something that will not make me an addict I should be very grateful to you, even if it does taste vile-- medicines always do.”   
  
“A wise decision, I know that it does not feel so very pleasant to you now but your mother is quite right-- laudanum is a good and useful substance when used sensibly but the long term effects are quite devastating on a mind-- not to mention the risk of overdose. Now, with your permission, Miss Elizabeth-- I should like to have a look at that leg.”

The suggestions that Sir Edward made did much to ease the constant pain that Lizzy had been feeling and when he advised an improvement to the splint that was about her leg. He proceeded to lay cardboard splints down the length of her leg and then wrapped bandages about it that had been dipped in starch. He apologised for the discomfort but cheerfully told her that after a few days, a week perhaps, the  _ bandage amidonnee  _ would dry hard and Miss de Bourgh might be permitted to get up from her bed and not be laying in bed thinking of nought but her discomfort.    
  
“Not,” he said with a kind smile, “that I imagine you have wanted for company or distraction in this house.” 

He bowed to his patient and her mother civilly declined to take any refreshment and told them that he should return in a few weeks to see how she was doing and change her bandage for her.

“You will be wishing me miles away, little doubt, Miss Elizabeth, when I return and confine you to bed again while it dries but it must be done, I am afraid.”    
  
Elizabeth laughed and told him that if he had indeed made it so she could leave her room he would be welcomed to Rosings by her personally and given a hero's welcome. Furthermore, Miss Elizabeth promised him that she should strive to be the most exemplary patient that he had ever had.

It was thus, that when Lord Salisbury came to Rosings the following week bearing a large and splendid bouquet of hothouse flowers, he entered the music room to find Miss Elizabeth sat with her leg immobile and raised up being entertained quite cheerfully by her sisters. 

His Lordship was clearly much in favour for Lady Catherine smiled on him when he was announced and it gave him the courage to cajole her.

“Now now, your ladyship-- I have been in a fret since I sent Heatherton to you that you should have thought me an interfering busybody. You must not be over much cross with me for wanting this delightful girl of yours to have the very best of care that modern medicine can give her. I brought this little posy for you, Miss Elizabeth, with my love.”   
  
“Oh, Lord Salisbury, thank you. Your Sir Edward is a marvel-- I am so grateful that you thought to send him. Why, it has meant that I have been able to get up and have some small say in my own wedding arrangements, as you see my sisters and my mothers are all industriously hard at work on my behalf and it is only left for me to nod or shake my head as required. Bless you, sir! I might have been confined to my bed for months on end and  _ that _ you know would have proven a trail.”

“Well, Heatherton is a clever fellow and I know that he was in Brussels recently researching new medical techniques. A very clever doctor.”   
  
“Yes, he told me that I may be the very first person in England to have a starched bandage like this. Do you suppose that I may set a fashion? Perhaps a little lace or ribbon tied in a jaunty bow might improve the look of it.”

Lord Salisbury liked cheerful young people and attempted to join in with her infectious sense of jollity, “To match your wedding gown, Miss Elizabeth?”   
  
“Not a bit of it, my lord. This leg  _ must _ be wholly mended by the time Mr. Darcy and I wed-- how else am I to go for long walks in the lake district on our honeymoon? Mr. Darcy is taking me on a tour of the whole area-- does that not sound delightful?”

Mr. Darcy entered the room with Miss Darcy on his arm, he spied the array of colourful blooms and he quirked an eyebrow at Lizzy. 

“I knew that I should not have carried you down here, Elizabeth-- I left this room for all of an hour and I return to find you encouraging your admirers by accepting flowers.”   
  
She smiled up at him and patted the seat beside her, pleased when he sat immediately,“If you bring me flowers, my dear, I will accept them too. Lord Salisbury has my gratitude twice over, first for sending Sir Edward and secondly for bringing the beauties of nature indoors to me.”    


“No, no,” Salisbury addressed Mr. Darcy sincerely, “Not trying to cut you out-- not at all, sir, a very shabby way to behave. Besides, my heart has been devoted elsewhere for years.” He looked significantly over at Lady Catherine, who left her writing table and approached. 

“Mama, have you shown Lord Salisbury your improvements to the stable yard? Sir Edward is not the only clever one, my Lord-- Mama has adapted an irrigation system that is fed by a pump to assist with the watering of the horses. I have not seen it, but Mr. Darcy wants a similar arrangement for Pemberley.”   
  
“This is the design that you wrote of last year in February, your ladyship? I should like to see it, if I may. I must have one built myself if  _ you _ say it is worthwhile.”   
  
“I will take you myself, Salisbury-- we have not had opportunity for a long talk in some time. Lend me your arm, sir, and I will explain the changes I have made since last year.”   
  
Lord Salisbury could not have looked more pleased by the prospect and it was clear that even Lady Catherine was not proof against the older gentleman’s delight. They left the room together and Lydia exclaimed, “You did not tell us that your Mama had a suitor, Lizzy!”   
  
“He has loved our mother for years, I did not realise it-- he has always been there in the guise of a friend to he family but I feel a little sorry for him, now I think,” said Anne.   
  
“Shall you mind, Anne? I would rather like two Papa’s to go with my two Mama’s and a multitude of sisters.”

“I  _ infinitely _ prefer him to Sir Lewis-- if Mama wants him,  _ I _ shan’t object. He has been faithful and good, he deserves to be as happy as our mother.”

“That puts me in mind of what I wanted to ask-- where is Sir Lewis de Bourgh buried?”    
  
“What could you possibly want to know that for, Lydia?” exclaimed Anne.   
  
“Kitty and I want to dance a jig on his grave. We were so angry when we heard what he tried to do to Lizzy. Mary says it is an unchristian thing to say but I for one am  _ glad _ he is dead.”

Georgiana gasped and Mr. Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose-- unable to formulate a reply. Elizabeth, hesitatingly filled the silence that had descended.   
  
“It is not that I disagree with you in principle, Lydia-- but have you considered what might be said of us all if you  _ did _ ? It would be dreadful if anyone thought we should be committed to an asylum. I do not think you should.”   
  
“Yes, I suppose so but...nobody needs to  _ see _ us, Lizzy,” pointed out Lydia, earnestly.

“The churchyard lies directly between the Collinses house and the church, sister!”

Kitty spoke up, “Well, that will not matter if we go out at night, will it?” 

It was second youngest Miss Bennet’s reasonable tone of voice that proved too much for Anne de Bourgh and the laughter that she had been attempting to check burst forth.

“What? Kitty!  _ Anne _ !” her sister’s expression of profound shock only served to exacerbate Miss de Bourgh's amusement. 

Mr. Darcy interjected, raising his voice a little to be heard over Anne, “Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s grave is unmarked at any rate.”   
  
Anne ceased her laughter, but was still smiling, “ _ is _ it? I had not known that, I have never asked her ladyship about it-- Mama didn’t...did she put him in a  _ paupers _ grave?”    
  
“No, cousin, that would have occasioned considerable comment, which our parents were anxious to avoid. Her ladyship merely refused to arrange for a stone to be erected when the usual time for doing so came. Nobody dared to question it, particularly the rector of the parish at the time.”

Lydia nodded, apparently satisfied with this. “Well then, there is no need for us to go out in the middle of the night after all, Kitty. Not that I should have begrudged it, not for Lizzy’s sake at any rate, but my bed here is extremely comfortable.”   
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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